Fenris did not sleep well that night. He seemed to have taken a step back in his healing progress, and was unable to fall into a restful sleep. He kept tossing and turning, snarling in his sleep, and kicking Anders in his furry ribs. Eventually, Anders had had enough of this, and quietly slid out of bed, furry paws silent on the floor of the hut.
A soft whine made him pause, and glance back.
The elf had rolled onto Anders' side of the bed, arms outstretched and searching for the now familiar fuzzy form of his bedmate.
Void take me,Anders thought as he wearily climbed back into bed, gently nudging Fenris aside so he had room to curl up once more. Once Anders had settled in fully, the elf snuggled up against him, grunting once before falling silent and still.
So, all it took for him to quiet down was a large fluffy kitten? Good to know. As it was, it was rather adorable to see the otherwise cranky elf relaxed, asleep, and clutching at a transformed mage like a child does a beloved toy. Who would have thought Fenris would ever cuddle anything?
It was something to cherish, he mused as he drifted into the Fade. It made the elf seem…less bestial, more easily attainable.
Dangerous thoughts, those. Especially when they affected his dreams.
It wasn't unusual for him to dream of other people. It wasn't even odd to dream of Fenris, though this was one of the few times it wasn't a nightmare, the elf glowing and reaching for Anders' heart with one hand while he lofted his sword high with the other.
No, this version of Fenris was decidedly much more pleasant.
It had started out well enough; a grassy field overlooked by a wide open blue sky, and a very interesting book on arcane lore sitting in his lap.
He wasn't sure when Fenris got there, but soon enough Anders and the dream Fenris were sitting side by side, silently enjoying the weather. Anders glanced aside at his companion.
This Fenris wasn't real, but the details were quite well done. He was out of his usual armor, wearing instead brown trousers and a simple white cotton shirt that was too large on him; his neck and collar bone were bared. His white hair flipped in his eyes as the wind blew, he smelled the same, his lyrium markings were gone, and instead the scars he had now were present, but less pronounced, less infected. As fully healed as they would ever be, they did not make Fenris unappealing.
Of course, Anders might have been a bit biased, but he had no problem whatsoever with Fenris' new marks.
"You may touch them, if you wish."
Amused now, Anders reached out, gently stroking the marks along Fenris' bared neck with his finger. The elf sighed quietly, head tilting ever so slightly into the touch. The soft sound and trusting gesture was enough to send a zing of want up the mage's spine. All it would take was a subtle application of pressure under the elf's jaw to turn his head, tilt it up, and take those lips in his.
If only,Anders thought sadly, drawing his hand back. If only the real Fenris were this happy, this trusting. Even if it wasn't with him, even that grumpy elf deserved happiness.
"Why did you stop?"
Sylvan green eyes turned to look at him, and Anders offered his dream Fenris a sad smile. "I shouldn't ache for something I can't have in real life. It'll just frustrate me further."
Dream Fenris seemed to consider this for a moment. "Isn't that what dreams are for? Release?"
"Perhaps," Anders laughed. "But I'd rather not, if you don't mind. I've been through this before."
His dream friend smiled in return, what looked like pity in his eyes as he faded away. "I see. Better the real thing instead of a substitute."
Indeed. But that didn't make it any easier dealing with the real thing.
The mage had lied to him. Fenris supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, but after knowing the Abomination for near ten years, Fenris had thought the man's word to be trustworthy enough, disregarding any Templar involvement of course.
Oh how naïve he was. Did this not reinforce what he had known all along? Never, ever, trust a mage or their motives.
He didn't bother trying to figure out the mage's plan; the Abomination had always been a dangerous, and very loose, canon. The elf doubted that the man had gained what little sense he had possessed back since Fenris' return trip to Tevinter.
It didn't improve his mood when he woke up the next morning curled up around Tigris- or what should have been Tigris.
He was naked, in bed, and curled tightly around the mage.
Naked. In bed. Mage.
The situation was immediately rectified.
While perhaps not a monumental achievement, this was the most satisfactory thing that Fenris had done since arriving back in Tevinter. And he really did enjoy kicking the mage out of his bed and onto the floor.
The high-pitched yelp the mage gave was a bonus.
Fenris glared at Anders when he poked his head back up over the bed, hair mussed and disheveled from his fall, and a very deep pout on his face.
"A good look for you," he snarled at the mage. "On your knees, as it should be!"
Anders blinked at him, mouth opening to reply. He paused, shut his mouth with a click, and cocked his head at the elf. "Do you have any idea how that could be taken? Fenris," he said, all serious. "Are you coming on to me?"
"What? No! Idiot mage, I just meant-"
"Ah, I know what you meant now," Anders smirked. He stood, brushing himself off. "I probably deserved that, didn't I?"
"Yes, yes you did."
"You never kicked me out when I was in my cute form."
"Cute form- you, you were Tigris?" Fenris asked, eyes widening.
"Guilty," Anders said, smiling weakly. His eyes took in Fenris fully, sliding from one area of Fenris' body to another. Fenris shifted a little, aware of his disfigurement.
"How else do you think you didn't end up lunch? How else do you think I kept an eye on you all the time?"
"I suppose that's a new trick your demon taught you," Fenris growled, grabbing the blankets and tugging them up higher on his chest, hiding most of his marks.
"If by demon you mean the Warden Commander, then yes," Anders replied, eyes returning to the elf's. "I'd always been curious about how she could go from small, elfish, and oh so shiny to a raging bearskein on the battlefield." He paused for a moment. "She's a lot like you, come to think of it."
"You would compare a Tevinter slave to a mage who commands the Order of the Grey?"
"I would," Anders returned. "You're both cranky, pig-headed stubborn fools who like to stick their hands where they don't belong. Oh, and you both try to make my life as miserable as possible."
"I thought the Hero of Fereldan was a mage?" Fenris asked.
"She is, but the way she looked at me or where she took me, I was really considering going back to the Templars, even if it meant being hanged."
They looked at each other for a moment before the elf sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and spoke.
"I believe this is the part where you explain what exactly happened to my former lover, and why you allowed her to die."
"In all honesty, that wasn't supposed to happen," Anders whispered. Fenris had to lean closer to the mage to hear him as he continued his story.
"After you were taken away, I realized that not only was Kirkwall rapidly decaying, but that it was also reflecting the decay of its' Champion. Fenris, there had been signs before you left, but…she completely unraveled after that. Even the Knight Commander was wary around Hawke- Hawke started killing Templars just as easily as mages. I once called you no better than a wild dog. I apologize and take that back. She made you look like a complete pacifist. She almost killed Aveline once. She was just so far gone…I had to move much more quickly than I could have anticipated. To have a chance of saving the city and its' inhabitants, I was perhaps hastier than I should have been. I was clumsy. I rushed through the process when I should have slowed down and double-checked everything…"
"Anders," Fenris said, just as quietly. "What did you do?"
"The salae petra, the drakestone- they are key ingredients for what would amount to a massive, burning explosion of magical energy.
"I set it in the Chantry, and set my plan into motion. I knew that Hawke liked to go there, to pray for her mother, and I planned around that, but…it went off early, and she was inside when it went off."
Fenris stared at the mage, unmoving. "No," he finally said. "No-"
"She's gone, Fenris. I'm…I'm so sorry-"
"Liar!" the elf snarled, throwing off the covers and rolling off the bed with a loud grunt. The mage was lying, again. Yes, Hawke was human. Yes, Hawke was vulnerable.
But to claim that he had killed such a magnificent woman on accident…
How dare he?
"You lie," he continued. "You couldn't, wouldn't, kill her. She meant so much to you as well. Don't think you can fool me. I saw those covetous glances you gave her when you thought no one was watching," he hissed, watching Anders face twist into a guilty grimace. "You wanted her, and not even your bumbling ineptitude would have taken her from this world. Impossible!" He took a step away from the bed, legs shaking with effort.
"Fenris, don't!" The mage was reaching out to him, hands already glowing blue, concern etched into his features. Fenris snarled, baring his teeth and backing away clumsily from the outstretched hands.
"You'll hurt yourself-"
"Why do you care?" Fenris spat, swatting away the man's invasive hands. "I am everything you hate! I represent what happens if mages are given their freedoms; their cruelty and avarice is carved into my skin," he said, voice rising as he gestured at his nude form. "I see mages as they truly are; a greedy, rotting disease on the face of Thedas. Monsters! You are all monsters that should be put down like the rabid beasts you are!"
The mage had stilled, hands still cautiously outstretched as he stared at Fenris with an unfathomable look. Slowly, carefully, the mage stepped towards Fenris once more. Fenris took two steps back. Anders again stepped forward, and again, Fenris took two steps back.
He was unprepared for Anders' assault, the mage flying at him with surprising speed. They collided, grappled, and tumbled to the floor in a mess of flailing limbs. Despite his previous uncontested strength, Fenris lost embarrassingly fast, and found himself panting into the floor, pinned by the healthier mage.
Anders said nothing as he held the elf, eventually placing his glowing hands gently on the elf's shoulders, and beginning to trail them downward.
Fenris stilled, mind blanking as the magic spread out through him, easing aches and pains that he was just now registering. His jerky movements and subsequent tumble must have been too much too early if his body was protesting this much.
Gingerly, slowly, Anders lifted his weight off of Fenris, and the elf let out a relieved breath, staying put. His anger had fled, and he did not feel like fighting anymore. So, he just lay there, letting the mage do as he pleased.
As he lay there, he became aware that while Anders' touch was clinical, it was also arousing. The magic was easing the pain and tension from his body, and his body…was extremely grateful, apparently. His blood started to warm, and head to more southern areas. Fenris fought with himself furiously; was he so starved for attention that even a mage's touch would be welcomed? He tried thinking of Hadrianna naked; it helped, until the mage's fingers dipped gently over his buttocks and down his thighs, making him shudder and bringing his problem back at full force.
Clinical though it was, it was still starting to drive the elf crazy.
"I care," Anders whispered, so quietly Fenris almost didn't catch it. "I do care. You just can't see it yet. Turn over."
Fenris didn't move, didn't breath. Maker, no…
"I said-"
"I heard you," Fenris growled, shifting and trying to flatten further against the floor.
He heard the mage sigh above him. "Fenris. We're both men here. I won't make fun of you if you have a reaction to my touch. Healing magic is supposed to feel good most of the time."
The elf chanced a glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Truly?"
The apostate nodded, face a careful neutral mask. "Healing magic acts as an accelerator most of the time; it speeds along recovery, gives energy to the parts of the wounds that need it the most. It's only natural for your body to enjoy it." He offered a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes. "That's why healers are watched so carefully. For all the good we can do the body, we also know the best ways to harm it."
"So why haven't you harmed me?" the elf questioned, propping himself up carefully on his arms. It hurt, but it was a dull pain that he could deal with.
"Turn over, please," Anders asked, ignoring the elf's question and reaching out towards Fenris again. As the mage's hands rested on his hips, Fenris gave up on dignity and pride, and allowed his body to be turned over gently.
His cock had swelled under Anders' magic, and now that it was free from the confines of the floor, it jutted out proudly. Fenris gulped, fixating his eyes on the ceiling.
"I've always known you liked men as well," he said quietly. Anders stilled, not moving as the elf spoke. Fenris continued, unable to stop now that he had started.
"Your friend, Karl, was your lover, wasn't he?"
Anders was silent.
Fenris continued, voice lowering to a rumbling hum. "You were so emotional over him, he couldn't have been just a friend. He was more to you." He sighed, turning his eyes downward to look at the mage's head just at the bottom of his vision. Anders' face was unreadable.
"Mage's will always take what they want," he whispered. "You must have been incredibly lonely after Hawke died." He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling once more, throat tilted up in offering. "So, what are you waiting for, mage?"
It took a long moment, but soon enough, hands that were not glowing with magic descended on Fenris. He flinched, but held still. What was the point of fighting this?
He had no freedom, he had no soul, and he had no Hawke. Let the mage get his fill of him before Fenris left this plane of existence.
Fenris let out of a soft moan of pain as the hands gently drifted over his throat; fire burned across his throat, lingering even after the touch had ended. The hands paused, and then repeated the motion, pulling another moan from the elf.
The hands moved on after that, systematically going from one part of the elf's body to another. The fingers were light, but warm, and despite himself, Fenris was enjoying the gentle attention. His throat was the only place that had caused him pain, and by the time Anders had reached the scars on his abdomen, Fenris was panting with need.
"I…" he trailed off, biting at his lip. He had no place to talk here.
He glanced up as the mage skipped over his erection, skimming down his thighs and legs instead.
Honey brown eyes caught his, and Fenris stilled once more, surprised.
The mage wasn't even looking at his body. He was just watching his face with a strange, alien look on his face that Fenris had only ever seen when the mage had mentioned cats.
What was going on?
"I do care, Fenris," Anders said quietly, brushing over the elf's knees and going over the tops of his feet. This elicited another pained sound, and Anders quickly stopped.
"You were not wrong about my preferences," the mage continued, standing up and going over to his desk and rummaging around. "But…I prefer my lovers to be willing. You are anything but that at the moment."
Fenris stared at him, unsure of what to do or say. Anders continued speaking, even as he walked back over and helped Fenris to his feet.
"I doubt you are truly interested," the healer continued, gently setting Fenris back in bed. "So please do not offer yourself so casually in the future."
Fenris nodded silently, and waited in bed while Anders gathered up a potion, and what looked like an old rag.
"Your wounds are healing, but it appears that you have nerve damage on your neck and the tops of your feet," the mage explained, motioning to the elf's throat. "The nerve endings were cut in such a way that any heavy touch there will hurt. I can medicate you for it, but I doubt it will truly help. I can't really heal that. Hands," he ordered, and when Fenris held them out, Anders set his things on the bed, and drew the elf's hands into his own, softly poking and prodding them. Fenris stared down at the interaction between their hands- it was vaguely fascinating to watch those larger, whiter hands envelope his darker ones. Soothing, yet electrifying as well.
"You were lucky with your hands though," he said. "There are tendons on the back of your hands that, if cut, would make it to where you have clawed hands. I cannot fix those either. With proper healing and retraining, you will hold a sword once more."
"For what purpose?" Fenris whispered.
Anders shrugged, letting Fenris' hands go. "I'm sure you'll find something. Here," he said, offering the jar of mystery potion and the rag. "I'm heading outside for an hour or so to look for herbs. You can take care of yourself while I'm out."
Fenris blinked at the mage owlishly. He couldn'tmean-
"Just make sure you keep the mess to the minimum," Anders said, pushing Fenris onto his back and drawing the covers near him in case he got cold. "Cleaning out stains of that nature are always time consuming."
And with that, the mage left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.