Title: Mystery Is The Basic Appeal
Author: miss_m_cricket
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Pairing: Fenris/Anders (Fenders), Bethany Hawke/Sebastian Vael, Carver Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Cullen/Merrill
Comm: dragonage_kink
Rating: M
Prompt: AU where Templars are more numerous and the Chantry rules the land with an iron fist. But the Templars, as powerful as they are, cannot tell whether a man is a mage or not by simply looking at him. Enter Fenris, a man whose tattoos are so sensitive to magic that he can sense mages even if they never cast anything. He is sent to hunt and capture the dangerous and incredibly elusive apostate Anders, leader or the Mage Rebellion.

Mystery Is The Basic Appeal

The Templar had been watched from the moment he entered Darktown.

Anders watched the Templar striding up the stairs to the clinic he ran with Merrill and Bethany and took up his place beside the door, waiting for the man to step inside. It was quiet, late evening, the lamp was out, and the girls were back at the sanctuary. It was just him here...him and the man carrying a greatsword.

Slowly the door swung open and Anders leapt, staff swishing down into the space where he had expected the man to be. With surprise he glanced up and yelped as a massive sword pummel thumped into his ribs, sending him stumbling away, staff coming up in case of a follow up blow.

The door slammed shut as Anders called ice to his fingertips, sending a wave of freeze outwards, holding the heavily armoured warrior back. It wouldn't last long, he knew that, and even as he summoned a spell to force the man to sleep, he heard the ice crack.

A second later he was leaping away from the sweep of the greatsword, using his staff to redirect the force of the blow, and sending a sharp bolt of electrical energy into the man's armour.

He had gotten too close though, he realised too late as the Templar gripped his robes and pinned him to the ground, sword pressed lightly to his neck.

"You need some new tricks." The Templar shed his helmet to reveal a young man with thick black hair and sharp blue eyes, "I hope you're not using those lame ass moves to keep my sister safe.'

"Carver," Anders rolled his eyes, "You know, I enjoy our little chats. But would you mind, getting off me now. That armour is sodding heavy."

"That's the idea." Carver huffed down at him, "You automatically assume that because I'm armoured up, I can't move faster. You don't spar against enough warriors. You need to hone your technique."

"Carver!"

"Fine..." the boy got up, clanking in his heavy plate, and hauled Anders up with him, "You haven't been practicing."

"Why thank you mother dearest for that update." Anders bit back, cross that he hadn't managed to defeat Carver, "But you have. Been torturing innocent Mages in the sparring ring Ser Carver?"

Carver's mouth pinched slightly.

"You know damn well the reason I joined the Templars." He bit back crossly, "Well I've got you some fetching information, if you want it."

"Language little Hawke." Anders laughed softly, "What would Garrett say..."

"Don't call me that!" Carver snapped, "And leave my brother out of this!"

"So predictable..." Anders sat down on a chair and gave Carver his most insouciant look, "I'm amazed that armour hasn't moulded to the shape of that chip on your shoulder yet..."

"Anders I swear one day I will throttle you..." the Templar flung himself down into the seat opposite him, "Stop taunting me. I deserve respect. I bring you good information."

"You do...the information anyway..." Anders grinned at the boys dark scowl, "What have you got Carver?"

"It's not Cullen." Carver sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, "He's been coming to the Circle to train and he talks about the Witchfinder...it's not him. He doesn't even twitch when Mages walk by him in the halls. It has to be the Vael...or that elf with them."

"Fenris?" Anders laughed softly, "Hardly..."

"You know his name?" Carver looked surprise, "He's been very private...reclusive even. Except for my brother of course. He's been invited to the Estate for a dinner party. With Vael and Cullen of course."

"We've met."

"Fighting doesn't count."

"We've still met."

"And you're sure he's not the Witchunter?" Carver pushed, leaning in, "Because his body is freaking covered in Lyrium. He came to the Gallows once and some of the Templars nearly drooled over him. He didn't like it much..."

"I'll bet..." Anders said quietly, "He can't be the Witchunter..."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

"We didn't even consider him..." Anders' mind was whirling, remembering Fenris chasing him down, his presence behind the other two in the markets, those green eyes, sharp and bright. The lyrium...singing against his magic...

"Reckon that was the idea." Carver looked smug, "Might not be him of course...could be Vael, sanctimonious arse that he is."

Anders shook his head and rubbed his face, "Fuck..."

"Language Anders," Carver taunted back, "What would dear Garrett say."

"Pretty sure he'd say fuck too. Maybe 'fuck me'..."

"Leaving!" Carver stood with almost comic haste, "And don't shag my brother."

"Can he shag..."

"No!" Was the answer shouted back as the boy practically ran from the clinic, "No shagging!"

"I swear I wasn't such a prude at his age..." Anders mused to himself, pursing his lips, smiling slightly. But the smile slowly faded as he considered what Carver had told him.

Fenris could be the Witchunter...well this changed...everything.

"I need to be at that dinner party." He mused, and headed for the Hawke Estate.

He and Garrett needed to discuss dinner plans.