Thank you so much to everyone that reviews, and reads!
"Kirkwall, how I've missed you and your fetid streets!" Anders stood on the deck of the ship and opened his arms wide, as if embracing the city as the ship approached. He gestured to the Twins, the massive statues that guarded the entrance to the port. "And the Twins! How are you? Still showing what one can expect when they enter Kirkwall I see." He saluted them both. "Welcome to Kirkwall, where you can be whatever you wish. As long as that entails subjugation and drudgery-otherwise don't bother."
"Are you quite done?" Fenris had a cloak pulled tight around him against the cold of the winter sea. He glowered at Anders. "I think we get the point."
"But doesn't it just make you all gooey inside?" Anders asked him, turning around with a smile. "Or is that vomit? I think it actually might be vomit, what do you think?" Anders had not stopped since they woke up this morning to the news they would be reaching Kirkwall in a few hours. The mage had scrambled from the cabin they shared and been on deck ever since, watching their inexorable approach.
"What I think obviously had no ability to make you stop your incessant babbling, so I will refrain." The trip across the sea had tested Fenris' patience. Between Anders' boredom and anxiety—and a bored Anders was a frightening thing indeed—and Oghren's seasickness, no one had any peace. If the dwarf wasn't complaining and vomiting, then Anders was chattering nonstop. Dwarves came from the earth, and hard stone under their feet is what their bodies knew. Being on a ship and its constant motion had thrown Oghren off balance, something that he didn't have in abundance in the first place.
Aedan and Zevran had chosen the smart route and stayed inside their cabin for the two week trip. The ship was not Isabela's much quicker one, and the journey had dragged on. Fenris didn't have the luxury of being able to shut himself away. Anders would just come looking for him, and even though it pained Fenris to admit it, he had gone out of his way to hide from the mage a few times.
Anders was nervous about more than returning to Kirkwall. There was a lot at stake on this trip. During the past six months, Anders had been working with Wynn on circle reform. She was deep in circle politics, and had connections that Anders needed to work on a better life for the mages from the inside. On their way to Weisshaupt, they were to go to the circles in Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and the Anderfels. The Starkhaven circle was in the midst of being rebuilt, and Anders thought it would be a perfect place to use as a model of what could be. They would be bypassing any circle in Nevarra. Nevarra was the seat of the Grand Enchanter, and would not change how things were run so easily. Already, Anders and Wynn had begun small changes in the Ferelden circle, with the backing of the king. If they could show the Grand Enchanter and the College of Magi how change did not have to mean strife with the Chantry, then maybe they had a chance.
So in returning to Kirkwall, going to Weisshaupt, and the responsibility of convincing a select few circles of his need, Anders was a bit of a mess. The only reason he hadn't fallen apart and run gibbering for the hills, was that he was no longer that person anymore. He passionately believed in a better life for all mages and he had a chance to do it right this time.
That didn't mean he still didn't feel like going somewhere and hiding for a few decades.
Anders had turned back to the railing and braced his forearms on the wood. A crowd had gathered on the docks, and he could just make out what the commotion was. "Maker, she didn't…"
Fenris moved next to Anders to get a better look. "It seems she did. I think there will be more of this wherever we go. Aedan is very important after all. Hero of Ferelden and a Warden-Commander, both those titles carry weight."
"Meanwhile, our hero is in his cabin probably screwing his lover. I have to say, it can be pretty funny sometimes to see people's faces fall when they realize how little he cares about it all." Anders laughed and then shook his head in disbelief. "But seriously, this is insane—and I know insane."
Templars and the city guard stood at attention on the docks. Behind them nobles had gathered, craning their necks to get a good look at the ship. In the midst of it all on a platform, stood Marian and Cullen. Both were dressed in their finest and Cullen's armor gleamed in the winter sun.
"It's like they think he's the blighted king or something," Anders exclaimed.
Fenris' lips twitched in a smile. "It appears so. But consider this, if we receive a reception such as this in other cities that we travel to, it might help you on your mission. You said the Prince of Starkhaven has just recently returned to reclaim his lands, maybe he would like to host the Hero of Ferelden." He raised an eyebrow at Anders and the mage snorted.
"Well, never have it be said that Anders was one to turn down canoodling with a prince." He raised his arm and waved to the ecstatic crowd while Fenris rolled his eyes.
After the speeches—speeches for Maker's sake—the wardens went with Cullen and Marian to the Viscount's Keep. They sat for what Anders was certain passed for an intimate dinner, but resembled something like a banquet. The room was furnished opulently, with deep red brocade curtains and a large table handcrafted in Orlais-by Andraste blessed virgins, no doubt. Above them a crystal chandelier glittered, throwing shards of light around the room. Anders couldn't get over at how Marian had come up in the world, and he told her as much as the second course was served.
She laughed at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Quiet you. You're just jealous." Fenris sat on Marian's other side and was ignoring the byplay while he ate with studious efficiency. Aveline and Donnic sat next to Fenris, which Anders thought was a good idea. The guardswomen and her husband had always gotten along better with Fenris than Anders. Across the table sat Varric, Isabela, Cullen, Aedan, Zevran and Oghren. Merril was not able to join them, and Anders didn't need Marian to explain why. He would go visit her in the morning when he went to the Gallows on official business. Official business… Anders… He blinked and shoved a forkful of red potato in his mouth. Maker, that was a nerve wracking thought.
He turned to Marian to get his mind off of the meeting he would have in the morning. "Of course I'm jealous. Look at this place. It's like living in the Rose," he said around a mouthful of food.
"Ew." Marian wrinkled her nose. "Don't the wardens teach you any manners?" She brought her goblet to her lips and paused. "Wait, did you just compare my house to a brothel?"
"A very good brothel," Anders pointed out as he swallowed.
"Ignore him, Hawke." Fenris dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "He's been like this for weeks now. If you value your sanity, don't engage."
"Have you not been engaging poor Anders," Isabela piped up. She smiled slowly, her eyes gleaming wickedly, and Anders had to wonder how long she had been saving up what she was about to say next. "Did he not pass his Harrowing? Are you going to take your great, big, broadsword and shove it into him when—"
"You're here!" Everyone in the room look to the door to see Carver, a smile on his face. "When you wrote and said you were coming I didn't think it would be so soon." En mass, their eyes swiveled to Fenris who had gotten to his feet. He gave Carver a small smile as the young templar skirted around the table to give the elf a hug.
Anders felt his jaw go slack as several things clicked into place, and he snapped it shut. He had been so sure it had been Isabela that Fenris had slept with. She had visited him more than a few times over the years—more than Anders ever had. But Carver… Carver had been there constantly when he had first joined the templars. Carver—from what Marian had said in her last letter—who use to sit with the elf and drink with him.
He hissed out a small breath between his teeth. Why this bothered him when it hadn't when he had erroneously thought it had been Isabela, he didn't know. No… That wasn't true. He knew precisely why. Isabela would never be serious about Fenris, while Carver on the other hand…
He jerked his eyes away to see Isabela give him a pitying look. Anders narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged in response, as if to say 'why worry about it?' As he listened to the two of them talk-Fenris with an amiable tone in his voice-Anders wished he had her attitude. And why did she always seem to know these things? Did she have some sort of sex divining rod that she used to see who was screwing who-and who wanted to?
And where could Anders get one?
Even after being together for over a year, and all the things they had been through, Anders still found himself feeling insecure from time to time. He had never had a relationship last this long, and he wasn't sure what to do. The circle was filled with the fickle—one had to be. Anders had become use to his lovers leaving—whether forcibly by the templars, or because they had moved on to another. It's how he had operated. He'd had six months with Karl, and that had been his longest relationship until Fenris. Even with the Calling hanging over their heads, they still had years together to look forward to yet.
If Anders didn't screw it up first.
Carver took a seat across from Fenris and the two of them began chatting. Anders resumed eating, but he tasted nothing of the opulent meal as he pretended not to eavesdrop. The ones who sat at his end of the table could sense his disquiet and Varric began to tell him amusing tales of Marian's antics through the past year-much to Hawke's chagrin.
"So then Hawke tells Lady Pansybottom—"
"It was Panybotam, Varric," Marian reminded him, her face flushed red.
"My name is better. So anyway, she tells Lady Pansybottom that Malcolm wasn't actually conceived in a night of passion with our esteemed Knight-Commander, but she had really picked him up out of a spindleweed patch and either way, she was more pure than her ladyship's daughter, who everyone knew had worked her way through her household servants. By the time Hawke had vanquished her foe verbally, the woman could do nothing but gape at Hawke, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. And with the way her eyes bugged out, that description isn't too far off. The very next day," Anders found himself leaning forward with Aedan and Zevran, "little Lady Pansybottom was shipped off for the Chantry, where she now spends the rest of her life in quiet reflection of-what I am sure are-her many carnal sins."
Anders barked out a laugh which was made even worse when Marian threw her napkin at Varric that he deftly caught in midair. "It wasn't quite like that," she muttered.
"Yes, it was." Cullen raised an eyebrow at her. "I was there. She made some comment insinuating you were a trollop, and Malcolm was a worthless bastard. Then you got that look in your eyes."
"Like the one she has now?" Zevran asked as Aedan elbowed him in the ribs.
"Yes, exactly like that," Varric answered.
"I hate you all so, so very much." Marian glowered at them, but her words lacked any heat.
As they all laughed—even Marian—Anders realized that when it came down to it, what Fenris had done before didn't matter. Wasn't Anders always telling him that? If he meant it-if he truly believed it-then he had to let it go. Someday they would run into someone Anders had slept with, and when that happened, Anders would feel nothing for them but fondness. Alright, not fondness for all of them, but some of them, yes.
But that didn't mean Anders could keep his mouth shut.
"So, Carver, huh? How did that happen?" They were in their guest room and Anders was already in bed and under the blankets.
Fenris paused in his preparations for bed and lowered a damp, soapy cloth from his face. "It was only a few times," he answered carefully. "Does it bother you?"
"Yes… No… I…" Anders floundered for words to describe his conflicting emotions, "Maybe? I just assumed it had been Isabela, because you know…"
"She's promiscuous," Fenris supplied. He finished scrubbing his face and rinsed out the cloth.
"Well, yeah. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean…" Anders gave up trying to explain himself and just settled for watching Fenris in the mirror he was using.
Fenris wrung out the cloth and draped it over the edge of the water basin. He turned and leaned against the marble table, his hands gripping the edge behind him. "I would never sleep with Isabela."
"Why not? She was always over at your place and she came on to you frequently at the Hanged Man." Anders remembered each of those times. The jealousy that had burned in him at the thought of the two of them together hadn't been some of his finer moments.
Pushing himself away from the table, Fenris padded naked across the lush, thick rug towards the bed. He sat down at the edge of the mattress next to Anders and the mage sat up. Fenris' fingers tapped a staccato on the sheets and Anders found himself reaching out to place a hand on the elf's to arrest his movement. Turning his hand palm up, he threaded his fingers with Anders'.
"I… I don't like sleeping with women. Danarius, he would make me…" Fenris closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "He would to use my brands to get me ready…" Anders squeezed his hand in reassurance. "He knew I was not attracted to…" Fenris turned his head, his hair falling over his face, hiding him from Anders. "He thought it was a grand way to prove his control over me."
Anders didn't know what to say. His concerns and worries seemed so trite now. Instead of speaking, he leaned over and placed a kiss on Fenris' neck, at the pulse he could see jumping just under his skin. They sat that way for a long while, Anders with his head on Fenris' shoulder and their fingers intertwined. The silence stretched out, but for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel the need to fill it. It wasn't oppressive, and didn't hold any of the fears and worries that had been plaguing Anders. Instead, there was comfort in it, a safety in not saying words to someone who didn't need to hear them. He felt Fenris turn, his hair sweeping across Anders' face, and place a kiss on top of his head.
"Besides," Fenris finally said, breaking the moment. "I know she visited you often for healing. I'm not a fool."