PUSHING BOUNDARIES

Anders felt as though his world had expanded a thousand-fold. There was an entire other person on the planet with whom he could speak and make contact. Fenris could have kissed Cullen, he was so pleased. He opted for kissing Anders, instead.

If Cullen was befuddled by Anders' sudden interest in his company, he concealed it well. The mage wasn't as ebullient with him as he was with his other three conversational partners. But, simply speaking with him at all was heady. Cullen seemed to understand the import of their fellowship, and was open and flexible in his conversation.

Some moments, Anders was relaxed and chatted easily. Others, he was caught in single-word replies. When just the two of them, it was an awkward-sounding conversation. Cullen tended to stammer slightly if nervous, and wasn't given to small talk. As it turned out, they both enjoyed the other's company. They also had a few surprising parallels in life.

Anders entered the Circle at age twelve; Cullen entered the Chantry for training at thirteen. Both were at the Ferelden Circle of Magi. Cullen was there only for Anders' last year or so. Both were saved by the the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair Theirin, although in entirely different situations. Cullen was held captive by Uldred's blood mages, when he was rescued. Anders was about to be taken captive by Templars when he was conscripted into the Grey Wardens. Finally, both ended up in Kirkwall within a few years of the other.

"You know... you're the first Templar I've ever really talked to. You're smarter than I would have expected."

Cullen chuckled. "Well, I'm not a Templar, anymore. Perhaps that skews your perception. You had to have interacted with them in the Circle?"

"Sort of. Those conversations were mostly me, smart-mouthing them."

Fenris, sitting with them, snorted. "How surprising."

"I remember that, about you. Very glib."

"Not so much, anymore."

"Says you," muttered Fenris.

Cullen was able to fill in a few of the burn-holes in Anders' memory of the Circle. Faces, names, events. Anders and Fenris both were interested in Cullen's perspective of events during their shared time in Kirkwall. Listening to Cullen describe Meredith's slow descent into madness triggered a few memories for them. In some ways, it was eerily similar to Danarius' fall into madness.

"She didn't hold me in confidence, especially the last few years. I tried to explain-away so much. After Kinloch Hold, I held mages in bitter regard. I barely considered them people." He looked at Anders, then at Eve, talking with Dorian and Bull. "I'm ashamed of that, now. I'm sorry, Anders. I hope you don't regret helping me."

Anders shook his head. "I barely considered Templars people," he finally admitted. "I've known of many Templars that committed atrocities against mages. But, I've also known mages that committed just as heinous of crimes. Danarius is one. Quentin, another. Our pasts are past. You make Eve happy. You've always been decent to me. What we are now, is what's important."

Anders and Cullen made attempts at chess. Anders hadn't played since he left the Circle, but it came back to him. As it happened, he wasn't very good at it. His was not a mind of strategy. Or, perhaps it had been, but like other things, it was now lost to him. He played cards, instead. He discovered he could play with people he didn't speak with, if it was a game that didn't require speech. He'd been around the Chargers enough, and they him, that he could sit with them in a game. He played Diamondback with both Krem and Grim. Krem was calm, respectful, and Anders found him endlessly amusing in the tales he told. Grim didn't talk, at all. He grunted. Anders and Grim played a lot of gin rummy the last few days of the Charger's visit. Both appreciated the other's laconic manner.

Fenris watched his mage blossom. He knew it was the positive experience with Cullen that had opened him up so much. It was also Anders' concern as a healer that bolstered him to talk with Cullen, in the first place; and later, to touch him during his purge.

Cullen and Eve sat with Fenris as he watched Anders in a game with Grim. Cullen asked, "Do you think he'll ever be able speak with others, as he did before?"

Fenris shrugged. "I honestly can't say. He's come further than I would have thought, already. I want him to have any good thing this world can give him. If that includes speech, I'll rejoice. If it doesn't, I'll rejoice for what he does have."

"He's lucky to have you."

Fenris shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. I'm not whole without him." Just then, Anders turned to look at him, and smiled. Fenris smiled back, feeling his heart fill. "If he should never speak with others, then I will be his voice, whenever he needs."

"Did he ever send a return letter to Varric?" Eve asked.

"No. He doesn't know what to write."

Cullen grunted. "I'm not surprised. Writing is just another form of speaking. It's probably just as hard for him."

One evening, a game of Wicked Grace started in the dining hall. It was the largest game Fenris had ever seen. Bull and Eve claimed to have been in a game of twenty, once, in Skyhold's tavern. Cullen was frowning about being involved, at all. Eve told Anders that Cullen sulked because he'd lost all his clothes in a Wicked Grace game, and had to make a walk of shame back to his office. Anders burst into laughter.

"Are you talking about Cullen losing his clothes to Josephine?" Bull inquired. "That was awesome! You've got nothing to be ashamed of showing, Cullen." Cullen's face burned bright red. "Awww... he's blushing! OK, gang, starting bet's a silver."

The first three hands, Fenris won. Halfway through the fourth hand, Bull called them out.

"I see those little cues going back and forth between Chatterbox and you. Skinner'll take you out a window, you keep that up."

Eve was horrified. "I declared this a clean game months ago! How could you cheat like that, again?"

Both men replied, "Old habits die hard."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Oh, Maker's sake. They're matching, again. You're only doing it to fluster me. Stop, this instant."

Both replied, "Yes, Dorian."

"Ugh."

It was the most enjoyable time Anders had had since leaving Kirkwall. He didn't have to speak to turn-in cards and get the same number back, or to fold or call. When he raised a bet, Fenris declared the amount for him. He drank just enough to feel a pleasant buzz. Surrounded by the four people with whom he could speak, he was comfortable, safe and happy.

In the early hours of the morning, Anders slept in the dim candlelight of their bedchamber. Fenris lay and watched the light play over his mage's face. His fingers ghosted over Anders' features, heart fluttering at the beauty of him. Placing a gentle kiss to his forehead, Fenris slipped from the bed.

Lighting a lamp, he sat at the desk, and picked up a quill. With slow, careful attention, he began to write.

"Dear Varric,

"I wish I could say that your letter was received with joy. It was received with many mixed emotions. Only after Dorian had finished reading it to us, and we had time to let your words sink in, did we feel joy.

"Since the moment you last saw us, we believed we had been abandoned. We knew only that Varania had betrayed me to the magister, that Hawke had betrayed us both to him, and that all of our friends had allowed us to be taken. We believed the friendships we had held as true, had been false.

"To receive your letter, and find that we, indeed, had comrades-I do not have the words, Varric. Neither does Anders. Words often elude him, now, leaving him unvoiced; which is why I write this letter in his stead.

"To hear how our friends had fought for us, and never gave up, gave us strength. We were not forgotten.

"You looked for us, Varric, and for that I will always be grateful. If you had not, if you had not met Eve and Dorian, and told them of your search-it is hard to think what would have come. Dorian took us from the brink of death, and gave us a safe haven where Eve could heal us. They gave us time and space and understanding that I had never known existed. They gave us life. Not simply the life of a beating heart. They gave us a life to live.

"My Anders has freedom, here. He has a family name. He has security, and I can ask for nothing more. His spirit of justice is gone, destroyed in a way that nearly destroyed him. And, in so doing, nearly destroyed me.

"We have met people that you know. They are good people, and they have broadened our horizons. Bull, his Chargers, Cullen. All have helped us both find our way further along our path.

"You wondered if we are still Blondie and Broody. I cannot answer that. I can tell you we are not who we were. The past four years have rewritten us both. We are broken, and rebuilding. My beloved Anders was wounded most. Yet, he heals and finds more of himself, everyday. It is hard for him. It will always be hard for us both.

"In truth, what we were, and what we will be, does not really matter. All that matters, is that we are together.

"Tonight, we played Wicked Grace with our mutual friends. There were memories of you, from many people. Anders and I missed you at the table. We miss you, in our hearts. We hope that you have a good life, and that your position brings you happiness. And, like you, we also hope to sit down with you, again, over a game of cards and a pitcher of ale.

"Fenris."

He lay down his quill, and looked over his letter. His writing lacked Anders' eloquence, and there were several cross-outs. But, he was satisfied. He would speak where Anders could not. He'd post the letter in the morning.

He crawled back in bed, lifting Tigris from his pillow and setting her in her basket. Anders rolled over sleepily, wrapped his arms around him, and opened his mouth against his neck. Fenris sighed, content. However broad their horizons might become, he would always be able to hold his entire world in his arms.

The sparring ring was seeing new contestants. Eve was adjusting her battle technique, to use one hand. Anders was becoming accustomed to using his staff, now that he had one.

Sparring with magic is unlike sparring with physical weapons. The spells pretty much always hit, so it's a matter of finesse and mana management. Anders had been out of battle for years. Eve was far superior... in the beginning. It didn't take him long to get his skills back.

Sparring with Dorian was unlike any fighting Anders had seen. He'd never fought a fully trained Tevinter mage on his own. Their sparring matches were more like a classroom than a battle. Anders continually stopped the match to ask about a spell or technique Dorian had used. They were finally boo'd out of the ring by the Chargers, who wanted entertainment, not lectures.

Finally, when he and Fenris teamed up against Cullen and Eve, it was simply wonderful. Cullen hadn't felt well enough to spar, until now. Anders and Fenris had fought as part of a team for nearly a decade. It felt utterly natural and right to be fighting with him, again. There was some awkwardness, initially, with Fenris continually looking behind him to check on Anders. Each time he did so, Cullen took advantage and knocked the elf in the dirt, ribbing him mercilessly. When Fenris realized Anders was holding his own, he focused forward, and set himself on gaining retribution.

Of course, Bull couldn't resist testing the new participants' mettle. He'd fought alongside both Eve and Dorian many times. Fenris and he had sparred several times. Surprisingly, in the years he was with the Inquisition, he'd never fought alongside, nor against, Cullen.

"Cullen! Quit playing with those sparkly mages and glowing elves. Let's fight with good, old- fashioned metal, muscle and might."

Cullen grinned. "What, just you? You won't need your Chargers as back-up?"

The Chargers responded in mock offense, clanging their weapons and shouting reprisals.

Bull grinned in return. "That's right, big guy. You keep talking that talk, maybe you'll start to walk that walk."

Cullen strode to the ring. "I've been walking that walk since I was was a child. May as well walk it all over you."

Watching from the sidelines, Eve was shaking her head. "I have never seen so much swagger in that man," she confessed to Fenris. The elf nodded.

"He'll manage himself. He's rediscovered some vitality."

Eve leered while watching her husband square-off against Bull. "You're telling me."

Fenris grimaced. "No. I do not wish to hear more." He stabbed himself with a gauntlet-tip trying to plug his ears.

Bull and Cullen were circling each other, making feints and casual swings. Cullen taunted him. "A little nervous? Performance anxiety, Bull?"

"Aw, this is just foreplay. Wait until things get hot."

Krem called from the sidelines, "C'mon, Chief! Are you fighting him, or courting him?"

Cullen called back, "He hasn't a chance, either way."

Bull gave a roar and started swinging his giant hammer. Cullen was surprisingly nimble, and ducked and dodged. Bull took a number of hits with the practice blade, none that would be fatal in a true fight. Cullen's shield was no match for a hammer of that size. He relied on speed and agility to avoid a hit.

It was a good fight. Both men were sweating and out of breath. When Cullen's weapon smacked the back of Bull's leg, the giant went down. Cullen stood over him, smiling, and extended a hand. The hammer swung around, the head hitting the shield, and knocking Cullen to his back.

Bull kneeled over him, hammer pinning Cullen to the ground. "Never assume it's over, 'til it's over," he taunted. Cullen grinned.

"Look down."

Cullen's blade-tip was nudged under Bull's groin. The tiniest of movements with a real blade would cause mayhem.

Krem catcalled from the sidelines. "Careful, Chief! You're gonna end up the Iron Steer!"

Bull stood, and helped Cullen up. "You fight dirty, Cullen," he admired.

Cullen dusted himself off, grinning. "Only to win."

Neither Anders nor Fenris could remember such a time of joy and comradery. In just two weeks, the mixed group had begun to feel like family.

Fenris knew that this time, with these people, had given Anders the courage he'd needed to explore the boundaries of his limitations. However far, or little, the mage pushed his limitations, Fenris would celebrate that courage.

tbc...

Author's Notes:

Oh, Anders. Oh, Fenris.
Wicked Grace! Sorry, no nay-nay Cullen, this time.