EVER AFTER

(this is the final chapter)

Fenris stood amongst the rubble, feeling his control slipping. His lungs fought to breathe, yet he couldn't draw air. Where was his Anders? What would he do?

A hand on his back sent him spinning about. Varric stood there, looking at him with concern. "He's here, somewhere, Broody. Let's just spread-out and look."

"He's not... I can't..."

"It's alright. Let's just take a few minutes, and look." Fenris shook his head, heart pounding. He turned and focused on the debris-field the explosions had left. Had Anders been hit by one? Where was his mage?

He struggled to move forward, eyes desperately scanning the ground. He bit back whimpers, clenched his shaking hands. Around him, the rest of the crew was searching, as well. They called Anders' name, lifted fallen debris. Isabela and Varric looked for tracks in the muddy sand.

Fenris had never been so desperate to find something in all his life. Yet, his body could barely perform the task. After several minutes, he was bent over, clutching his head, trying to control the sounds his throat wanted to make. Anders... where was Anders? His life. His own self.

"Lethallin... take deep breaths. We will find him." He looked into the eyes of the elf now beside him.

"We're apart... we can't..." He felt a whine rising in his throat, and clasped his hand over his mouth.

"You love each other very deeply, don't you?" He nodded, eyes squeezing tight against the fear scrambling his thoughts.

The group reached the far end of the cavern, turned, and restarted the search from the other direction. Fenris struggled beside Merrill, his breath coming in hiccups.

Ahead, Isabela walked across a large section of wooden wall that had fallen flat. She stopped, turned, and walked across it, again. On hands and knees, she knocked on it, then peered through the space between planks.

"Over here!" she called, trying to lift the section. When she was joined by more, the wall was lifted up and tossed aside. In a crater that had been blasted out of the cavern floor, Anders lay unconscious. The crater was deep enough that the section of wall had fallen flat over him, hiding him from view.

Fenris sprinted to his side, falling to his knees. He was terrified of what he would find.

"AndersAndersAndersAnders." He touched the mage's face with trembling fingers. He was warm, just soaked and covered in wet sand. He was breathing. Fenris looked up at Merrill, who immediately cast a healing spell. Anders' eyelids fluttered. Honey-brown eyes looked up, and into Fenris' own. A whimper escaped the elf. Laying his head on the mage's chest, he gave up fighting, and wept. His hands twisted into the mage's robes, and his voice gave hoarse outlet to the fear and overwhelming relief that filled him. Anders' arms encircled him, and he collapsed against the mage, sobbing.

"I'm here. I'm alright. What happened?" Fenris only shook his head, weeping.

Varric's voice answered, somewhat confused. "We couldn't find you, for a while. Broody... he was pretty upset."

"How long was I missing?"

"I guess, ten or fifteen minutes."

"Oh, Makers' breath. Fenris, I'm so sorry." Anders sat up, pulling the elf against him. "I'm here now. It's alright. I'm so sorry... you were alone so long... we're together, now."

Fenris cried himself dry in Anders' arms. He felt the mage's fingers in his hair, his arms around him. He turned his face into the crook of Anders' shoulder, and opened his mouth against the mage's neck. Fenris sucked at his skin, uncaring of the grit, finding the comfort he so desperately needed. Anders rocked him, whispering soft words, adding his voice to the reassurance of taste and scent and touch. His mage was here. They were together.

Fenris sat with his back against a log, facing the fire. Anders, wrapped in blankets taken from the bandits' supplies, sat in the V of the elf's legs. When Fenris had calmed enough in the cavern, Anders had helped him up, and walked him slowly out of the caves. The group looted what they could, including travel rations, dry bedrolls, and blankets; and followed the pair.

Anders' clothing was soaked through. The rest of the group had been protected by Anders' shield, but he had been caught in the shower from the explosion as it threw him across the floor. There would be no walking back to town like that, and Fenris was obviously in bad shape. A make-shift camp was set-up, and a fire lit. Anders took off his wet gear, hung it to dry, and wrapped himself in the blankets. It was fairly warm, but even so, Fenris shook like a leaf. Once Anders had them seated, the elf wrapped his arms about the mage and buried his mouth in Anders' shoulder.

The group was quiet, giving them space. Fenris ignored them. All he knew, all he cared, was that Anders was with him. He shuddered slightly, eyes squeezing tightly shut. His Anders. His all.

Varric sat next to them, as though watching over them. The dwarf finally broke the silence. "You two, uh... you're never apart?"

Anders shook his head. "Not in over four years."

"Ever?"

"Once. For a couple of minutes. It was bad."

"Isn't that hard to manage, all the time?" Varric asked.

Anders shrugged. "Not really. We don't think much about it. It's just who we are. We have tried to teach ourselves to separate. We just can't."

Varric's jaw clenched, his voice thick. "What did that bastard do to you?"

"This wasn't done to us, Varric. This is how we lived through what was done to us. This is how we stayed strong. This is how we survived."

"Still... I think of Hawke, and what he put you through. I wish I'd put a bolt through him a decade ago."

"You couldn't have known. None of us knew. What happened, happened. Fenris and I are different, now. It used to bother me. But, we also share a love by which all others are measured. We don't just have each other, we are each other. There's no need for pity, or anger, or what-if's. Not when we share each other's soul."

Fenris' forehead pressed behind Anders' neck. He felt hot tears escape, and fall against the mage's neck. The group sat quietly, watching the fire.

"I still wish I knew where Hawke went bad," Varric said.

"He couldn't fly," Merrill said.

"Come again?" Varric asked.

"Asha Bellanar told him, long ago. 'It's only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly'. After he lost all that remained of his family, Hawke was falling, and he couldn't fly. He fell into despair. And, he lost himself."

By morning, Fenris was much calmer. The elf woke first, and then woke the mage with soft kisses roaming his face. The sight of Anders' amber eyes opening in the dim morning light took his breath away.

"Don't ever do that again," the elf whispered. "I thought I was dying."

"I'm sorry, love. You know it wasn't by choice."

"I know. But, it nearly killed me." He took the mage's lips in a passionate kiss, sorely wishing they were alone. He pulled back, and quietly helped Anders to his feet. They slipped from camp, taking Anders' damp-dry clothing with them.

In a small clearing, Fenris took Anders in his arms, and kissed him with all the pent-up emotion that hadn't found its outlet in his tears. He consumed the mage, leaving them both breathless.

"Ten minutes of terror, my Anders," he murmured. "It was an eternity. I still can't believe you're in my arms." He claimed the mage's mouth, again. Anders slowly backed himself against the leaning pillar of an ancient structure, pulling Fenris with him.

"Prove it to yourself, love," the mage said.

As Fenris loved him in the dawn's quiet, the elf felt the world set itself right, again. Anders was under him, around him; his taste, his touch, his scent, his sounds. Their bodies moved together, their lungs breathed together, their hands clasped together... and, their souls were one.

The walk back to Kirkwall was peaceful. Isabela and Merrill walked ahead. Arm in arm, they nuzzled playfully.

Fenris and Anders walked arm in arm, as well. The elf felt particularly attached, and held Anders close. Varric walked beside them, pleased with the outcome of the trip, despite the emotional pains that had followed.

Anders pointed his chin at the women. "When did that happen?"

Varric chuckled. "Can't say, exactly. I think Merrill's sweetness just snuck in under Isabela's walls. They've been good for each other." Varric cleared his throat. "Look, I didn't mean to pry, last night. And, I sure never meant to imply that anything is wrong with either of you."

Fenris shook his head. "It's alright, Varric. We catch people off-guard. We accept what we are... at least, it sounds like we do," he added, glancing at Anders. The mage smiled.

"We do." Anders confirmed.

Varric nodded. "Well, that's good. Because we do, too." -

DADADADADADADADADA

Wicked Grace games were lively, with such a compliment of players. Having been caught giving each other cues by Isabela, Anders and Fenris were winning less. They didn't care. Sitting at a table, passing a pitcher of ale, bickering over game rules, laughing at jokes and stories... those were the true winnings.

As the weeks went by, less and less Hawke-memories arose. Those that did, had less affect.

"We had to break-up a coterie fight at the Blooming Rose, last night," Aveline said. "Gamlen. He's got the money, why doesn't he just pay his debts?"

"I've seen it a hundred times, Aveline," Varric said. " A guy gets used to living a certain way, he can't stop. All he knows is dodging debtors and scraping by. Give him a fortune, he'll keep doing it."

"Perhaps. He became morose after Charade. I think he has a death-wish."

"What charade?" Fenris asked.

"Charade was Gamlen's daughter," Varric said. "He didn't even know about her. She tried to draw him into contact with a scavenger hunt. Hawke looked into it; her notes mentioned a jewel. Long-story short, when he finally met her; his cousin, mind you, he killed her in battle."

"It wasn't much of a battle, Varric," Aveline said. "She handed over the jewel, and he cut her down. Hawke said she was a risk. Gamlen didn't say much, though her mother had apparently been the love of his life. I think he gave up, after that."

"Well, he at least got Hawke's fortune."

"And, lives like a pauper. He and the house both look like they're falling apart. Spends all of his money on drink, gambling, and whores," Aveline said.

"Not a bad lifestyle, if you ask me," Isabela said.

"I didn't ask you," Aveline said.

"Ladies, ladies... This is a no-cat-fight-zone, remember? Unless wet frocks are involved. Then, we'll make an exception," Varric decreed.

"You're a pervert, Varric," Aveline said.

"Well, I'm game," said Isabela.

Anders turned to Fenris. "It's special moments like these when I most wish Dorian could be here with us."

In a few more weeks, Isabela and Merrill took to the sea, again. A few weeks after that, Fenris and Anders did, as well. They had reconnected with their family of Misfits. They had discovered and defeated the ghosts of their past. However, as much they enjoyed their friends' company and creating new memories, their life in the North called to them.

Reuniting with Dorian, when he surprised them at the Tevinter-Nevarran border, was truly a homecoming. He came for no other reason than to lessen the time it took before he saw them, again. Such is the love and devotion he shares with his brothers.

There are times when Fenris can barely remember the years they spent in Danarius' estate, during their slavery. Emerging from that time, into the warmth and care provided by Dorian and Eve, was like waking from a nightmare.

When he thinks of that time, it's only to recall the merging of his soul with Anders'. How they survived together, how they became one another, how they grew to love one another.

Anders is his life. He is all that matters. He is a part of him, as much as his limbs or organs, and will be for the rest of their lives.

The life they share with Dorian is good. They help him in his efforts to reform their country. They know his allies, and often attend gatherings with him. While the three Pavus brothers work hard to fulfill their goals of freedom for all Tevinter, and to bring their country out of corruption; they also share much joy and laughter in the comfort of their home.

Due to the Imperial penchant for in-fighting, Dorian also has enemies, those who don't appreciate his ideals. During one frightening time, he was caught in an attack by the Venatori. Dorian's love, The Iron Bull, was the one who found the way to dispatch the would-be assassins, and rescue Magister Pavus.

Fenris and his mage aren't always found in Minrathous. Sometimes with Dorian, and sometimes alone, they travel to other Pavus estates, both in and out of the Imperium. Dorian and Bull meet at the Tevinter border as often as possible. When Dorian is able to travel outside of the Imperium with Fenris and Anders, Bull and his Chargers always meet them. Those extended liaisons are Dorian's sustenance through the lonelier times between.

Every couple of years, Fenris and Anders return to Kirkwall. Varric's reign is uncontested. The people of the city are grateful for his leadership that brought such prosperity and charity. Eventually, with Anders' and Fenris' blessing, the storyteller told the tale of their enslavement, freedom, and love. Neither Fenris nor Anders would read the drafts or completed novel. The dwarf worked with Dorian to assure their anonymous presentation was both tasteful and respectful. So, with sensitivity and consideration, Varric wrote a book that left the populace shattered and questioning.

Even in Tevinter, their story had people reeling. Those few people who knew that the characters depicted were actually Anders and Fenris, were shocked that two men of such intellect and skills had been relegated to the status of animals. Their story rocked previously held beliefs regarding the institution of slavery.

There were detractors, of course. Traditionalists who insisted the work was pure fantasy, and resented Tevinter ideals being presented in such an unflattering light. Still other readers simply found the story a compelling romance, and swooned with rapture at the tale of a love so deep. Regardless, Varric's book stirred feelings across Thedas, and in Tevinter, in particular. The idea that slaves were people, with feelings, thoughts, and potential, was frightening to the Imperium. For the first time since the Book of Shartan, slaves had been given in voice.

Anders' own voice still remains hidden. There are a few more people, whom he has gotten to know well, with whom he can speak. Maevaris Tilani, a friend and frequent visitor to their home, is one. When called upon for healing, Anders finds he is able to do the speaking and touching necessary for work. It's difficult, and short-lived, but allows him to heal. It takes a great deal out of him to interact so closely with strangers, so he doesn't do it often. Fenris, of course, is always there to help him.

He and Fenris visit the cooperative Dorian and Belus had created. There is where Anders does most of his healing. More cooperative ventures have opened, as a result of Dorian's work. Yet more as a result of Varric's book.

Even if Anders has not found his voice, he has found his hand. With writing at his command, once more, he corresponds with many people; friends, allies, fellow scholars. For, he has become respected as a researcher and skilled alchemist. The potion Anders re-engineered, to cure the Grey Warden Calling, was successful. After more than a year of study and trials, Grey Wardens were able to reverse their Joining.

The King and Queen of Ferelden were among the first to purge their taint. Within two years, their first child was born. An heir eagerly awaited, and reportedly, much loved. Anders was surprised to receive a personally addressed announcement of the child's birth. Even more surprised to see that the list of middle names the child bore, included his own.

Anders has had no desire to visit Ferelden. The only loss they feel in that, is that of Eve and Cullen. All three men speak with them often through Dorian's Sending Crystal. Eve assists Cullen in helping ex-Templars with purging the lyrium that causes their delirium.

Fenris nursed Anders through his own day and night of the taint's purge. Black, foul blood and gripping spasms brought to mind a horrifying memory. But, this sickness was entirely different. For, dawn came, and the emissions ceased. Anders' life was again his, to lead for as long as he was lucky enough to live. Fenris held his mage that morning, and wept with happiness.

Theirs is a life lived fully paired. After having twice felt the terror of nearly losing Anders, Fenris could simply no longer practice separation from him. After the Spiritus potion, and his brief loss in the caverns, Anders understood it was just too much to ask of the elf. In truth, their constant company is no hardship for either. Just as the taste and scent of their skin continues to bring them comfort in times of stress; being in one another's presence allows them the peace and security to simply live. A peace they never take for granted.

Fenris feels the wonder of his life in many ways. But, nothing compares to the utter joy Anders brings. When he touches his mage, he feels complete. He feels privileged, as well; for Anders still cannot bear the touch of most. Watching his beautiful mage melt under his caress causes a thrill unlike any Fenris has known. Bringing each other to bliss is a communion beyond the dreams of most men.

And, in the joy of their life, they found some level of compassion for a man who was once their friend. When Fenris and Anders do think of Hawke, it's no longer with hate nor anger. They feel sadness for a once-good man, who went terribly wrong. For a man who found himself so alone, that he lost his way. Who, when he fell, found that he could not fly.

When Fenris thinks objectively on his life, he can see the pain, the unfairness, the terror. He knows it existed. He also knows it no longer matters. Whatever he went through, whatever his Anders experienced, it's done. It's part of their past and it changed them, but it does not define who they are. They are so much more. They are each other. They are one.

On that terrible day in the Hanged Man, they fell. But, not only did they learn that they could fly; they learned that they could soar.

fin.

Author's Note:

Writing this story has been a journey I wasn't quite expecting. It was also an exploration of personal demons of which I was unaware.

I won't expand upon this particular story, in the future. I have left this version of Anders and Fenris in their perfect imperfection, with their happily-ever-after. I can't mess with that.

I do, however, have other versions of Anders and Fenris, in other storylines. They will be visited.

(As a P.S.: I've had some queries about the cure for the Warden Joining. No, it doesn't cure the blight. As Anders describes, it's based on the lyrium that is bonded to the darkspawn/Archdemon blood. Only Wardens have that. Regular ol' blight infection doesn't include lyrium.)

Blessings, happiness, and joy to you all!