Red-gold hair gliding through his fingers like silk. Warm eyes smiling at him from between unruly bangs. He felt happy. So happy. So warm. Loved.

First light crept through the windows of his dilapidated mansion when Fenris forced his eyes open. The temptation to stick his head under the pillow and slip back into sleep in search of the dream was overwhelming but of course some fool decided now was a good time to come knocking on his front door. He cursed roundly in Arcanum and dragged his naked body out of bed.

Fenris reached for his legging when he caught sight of his reflection in a shard of broken mirror propped up against the wall. The lyrium in his skin stood in stark contrast to his olive skin.

A hand brushed over his chest down his stomach, dipping under the waistband of his breeches. Touching. Touching without pain. Lips chasing his in a heated kiss. His whole vision filled with soft golden hair.

The knocking on his door grew more insistent forcing Fenris to focus on the present. Grumbling, he yanked on his leggings and grabbed his sword to answer the door.

xXx

'Morning. I have work for you.' Hawke greeted him with her usual straight to the point demeanour while she walked past him into the mansion.

'Fine. But you owe me breakfast,' was all Fenris said. He knew whatever job Hawke had lined up would pay well which was why he never asked any questions. They had that sort of relationship. It worked for them.

Hawke explained a few details while Fenris finished dressing. It didn't bother him since her only interest in his body was purely professional and she had seen him in various states of undress over the years anyway. You couldn't get around it when you travelled and fought side by side for days sometimes weeks. More often then not they had to help patch each other up, especially when Hawke's favourite healer had burned all his mana.

'Is the abomination coming too?' Fenris asked, trying to sound casual. He sincerely hoped the answer would be a sound no.

Hawke gave him a hard stare. She looked like she wanted to dismiss his question but shut her mouth again, obviously thinking it over. 'Hn. You have a point. If the rumours are true and Fell Orden's brother is a blood mage as well we could use Anders' help. Good thinking.'

'That's not...,' what I meant, Fenris finished silently. There was no point in arguing with the Champion once she had made up her mind, and there was also no point in telling her that he wasn't keen on seeing the mage any time soon albeit for different reasons than his adversity to magic or the apostate's constant yammering. But there was no escaping it now. As horrible as being a slave had been it had taught Fenris one useful skill: shut out all else and focus on the task at hand.

He fastened the last buckle on his gauntlet when Hawke remarked, 'You are done. Let's go see Varric first.'

xXx

After they had made their way from his mansion to the 'Hanged Man,' Fenris stopped briefly at the bar to enquire what they had on offer for breakfast but he lost his appetite after one look at the quite frankly very suspicious looking sausages.

'Don't grumble at me later, you have had your chance,' was all Hawke had to say before she walked up the stairs to Varric's private quarters.

It turned out that despite the hour Varric already had an early visitor or maybe a late visitor, all things were possible at the dwarf's chosen home. Fenris had been too distracted by his rumbling stomach, so he only noticed who it was when the other said, 'I see you've got company. I'll see you later.'

'No stay. I think I could use you,' Hawke grabbed the mage's biceps through his coat as he tried to brush past. The abomination gave her an irritated look. 'I mean, use your skills,' she corrected hastily and let him go with a gentle shove towards one of the empty chairs.

For a second it looked like he would bolt and part of Fenris wished he would but after a few tense seconds the mage simply slumped into the offered chair and pouted when Hawke flashed him her 'I knew you would see reason' grin.

'Varric, we have word that Mort Orden is hiding near Smugglers' Cut,' Hawke began to explain but the elf tuned her out. Another useful skill you learned as a slave. He feigned attention but his focus was reserved for the blond mage who didn't even pretend to listen.

Quite frankly, Fenris was at a loss why of all people Anders had been the one who had triggered that particular sliver of his memory. For that was what the dream undoubtedly was. It was too vivid, too real. Fenris could feel the softness of the hair and the warmth of his lost lover's lips when he closed his eyes and concentrated but there was no real face to match the individual features and no name. Just beautiful warm eyes, an easy smile and strands of red-blond hair.

Fenris had encountered dozens of people, men and women, who matched that description but it had been the mage who had made him remember that he was once loved. It made him hate Anders all over again because being alone was hard but knowing that he had lost so much more was torturous.

Maybe if he could get a different angle Fenris would be able to figure out why it had been him? Had his lover been a man? While he pondered those questions he slowly made his way to the other side of the table from the mage still feigning interest in Hawke and Varric's exchange.

The mage was shifting around in his seat glaring fireballs at Fenris probably because he had no idea he was being watched in return. It still didn't make any sense to him. Why the abomination? Yes, he had a handsome face and a nice body and an absolutely infuriating personality to go with the package. He did however have the same eyes, the same smile and the same beautiful red-golden hair which he was untying just this very moment.

Anders' hands were gliding through it in a gesture that looked so very familiar. Fenris let out a tiny gasp when the other man threw his head back, presenting his throat. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the exposed flesh, wanted to tear into the mage and claim him. A wave of possessive lust flooded through him so strongly he barely noticed that Anders was slowly deliberately looking at him. His hair framing his face like it had on that first day on the beach.

Long legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into the other's heat. Kissing him so desperately.

Something was trying to break through. A word, a name?

Magister!

'What do you think, Blondie?' Varric's voice broke the connection. Anders actually let out a yelp of surprise but Fenris didn't really pay it any attention. He was vaguely aware that the conversation kept going around him but none of it mattered. After weeks of wondering he finally had his answer and like so many other things in his life it was utterly cruel.