The trio returned to Denerim the next morning under the threatening grey of rain clouds, laden down with a few trinkets from the ruins, a new staff for Anders, and a new pair of boots for Fenris. The warrior clomped loudly behind the mage, unused to his newest attire. Isabela had laughed herself silly when he had stumbled away from camp- sadly, the pirate was staying behind with the Dalish and Merrill. Another friendly face to help cheer the mage up, and to guard his back at night.
Then again, he had seen her and Zevran distracting Fenris the night before, so maybe keeping the assassin and the pirate separated was a better idea.
Anders turned, watching Fenris stumble and shuffle with a knowing smile. He looked like a cat that had stepped in something nasty and didn't want to walk.
"Alright there Fenris?" he asked when the elf had caught up to him.
Fenris offered the mage a sour look. "These are heavy, cumbersome, and I can't feel the ground beneath me. How do you stand these all the time?"
"They protect my delicate mage toes from the elements and they're very stylish," Anders quipped. "How have you been able to run around bare-foot this whole time is beyond my comprehension."
"I was not allowed shoes."
Anders turned and gave Fenris a disbelieving look. "You mean to tell me that Danarius outfitted you with weapons and armor, but wouldn't also equip you with shoes? Shoes, basic protection for your little elf feet?"
The elf shrugged, catching and saving himself from a stumble. "After the ritual, I had no memory of before and my feet were already tough. I suspect that I have never worn shoes before now."
"But what about if you stepped on something sharp?" the mage asked, unable to wrap his head around the logistics. "What if you went through glass? Or stubbed your toe?"
Fenris snorted at the last query, but answered levelly. "If there was glass, I was expected to still do my duty. What was I to a great magister of Teventer? I was an expensive tool; but like any tool, I could be replaced." He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "And I was."
Anders didn't have anything to say to that; what could you say to that? Somehow the subject had gone from shoes to Fenris' unfortunate history of being cast aside. And knowing Fenris, being the brooding master he was, he was probably now thinking deep thoughts about why he was cast aside not only by his former master, but also by his sister and by last his lover.
What, was Anders supposed to ignore this? He wasn't sure he could. But if he tried to give Fenris of all people a pep talk, it might come out mangled and oh so horribly awkward and somehow come back to either the mage plight or sex.
Sex?
Inspired, Anders tried to change the subject.
"So…" he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows when the elf glanced over at him.
Fenris cocked his own eyebrow. "What?"
"Last night," the mage said lightly. "Did you-"
"Yes," Fenris interjected swiftly, eyes brightening almost at once. Anders mentally congratulated himself. "That was…I can't stop thinking about it."
"You're welcome," Anders said, preening as he did so. "I don't just dance like that for anyone you know, you lucky sod."
"Would you dance for me?" Zevran called to them, motioning for them to keep up. He offered the healer a playful smile. "I would pay you for your time, of course."
Fenris made a noise similar to a cat being dunked in water, and Anders did some quick thinking.
"Sorry Zev," he said cheerfully. "I just don't think I'd be able to fit you in. Between the jobs and looking after my favorite patient, I just don't have the time."
The assassin laughed, pulling ahead once more, this time offering Anders a knowing look over his shoulder; they wouldn't be bothered for a while now.
"Did you really like it last night?" Anders whispered, eyes fixed determinedly on Fenris' covered feet.
"I thought my reactions were rather telling," the elf said dryly.
"No regrets?" the mage countered, a little sharply. "No…worries?"
Fenris turned to fully look at him, mouth set in a frown. "Anders, I thoroughly enjoyed last night. I want to do something like that again soon. Very soon," he amended, licking his lips thoughtfully. "Why are you asking me these things. Are you having second thoughts now?"
"Maker, no!" Anders nearly tripped over his own feet in shock, weaving a little as he righted himself.
"I would understand if you did," Fenris continued on, oblivious to the mage's flailing. "I am, for a better lack of term, damaged goods. I-"
"Sod it," Anders snapped.
"…I beg your pardon?"
"I said sod it," Anders repeated, anger flaring up in his chest. Hadn't he shown Fenris that he really did care? That he didn't care if Fenris was an ex-slave, if he had scars, or if he liked to hog the blankets on chilly nights? Damn the elf for being so thick-skulled!
"I was asking if you were fine with last night because I want to make sure I won't scare you away. And I'm…I'm nervous. Normally by this point in time, I've already shagged the person and moved on. I don't want that with you, but I've never done these long term commitment things, and I'm terrified I'll screw something up. I'm not having second thoughts. I want you. I want every part of you laid out bare before me. I want you at my mercy, just as surely as I am at yours. Just…" he trailed off, looking helplessly at the elf. "Please. Let me know if I do anything to upset you."
The warrior stared at him for a moment before a small, timid smile graced his features. "You truly believe that. A man such as you, wanting one such as me." He shook his head, looking amused now. "You are an odd one."
"Says the elf who's never worn shoes," the mage grumbled. "C'mon, let's catch up before Zev leaves us completely behind."
By the time they had reached their room, all three men were soaked to the bone, the clouds opening up on them a mile outside the city, and pounding them until they had found shelter, ducking under the eaves of The Pearl.
He hid it well, but Fenris couldn't fully hide his discomfort from Anders, especially when the healer was already keeping a sharp eye on the elf. The warrior had been walking stiffly for some time now; his feet were more than likely hurting by this point and with the cold and wet on top of everything, Anders really couldn't blame Fenris when he snarled and snapped at the assassin, or anyone who passed by him too close.
Zevran, for whatever reason, used this as an excuse to head back out into the weather. With a quick bow and a wink, he vanished back out into the downpour, leaving Anders behind with a very wet, very grumpy elf.
"C'mon, upstairs," he coaxed, resisting the urge to take the elf's hand in his.
With a huff of irritation, Fenris listened, stomping clumsily up the stairs and to their room.
It took a little more cajoling, and a few firm tugs on Fenris' armor, but he eventually had the elf naked and soaking in a hot bath while Anders made do with a simple sponge bath, quickly cleaning himself up and gathering together a few items while the elf enjoyed his bath.
When Fenris finally emerged from the bathroom, towel clutched around his wet form, the mage was ready and waiting. He knelt in front of the chair, a few towels, a jar of oil, and a bucket of hot, salted water in front of him.
"Sit," Anders said, motioning the warrior to the chair. "This will help."
Head cocked and eyes curious, Fenris did as requested; he sat in the chair, gingerly adjusting the towel before looking down at the mage once more.
"In," Anders motioned at the bucket. "This will help your feet feel better."
Fenris carefully slid his feet into the bucket, a soft sigh coming from his mouth as his feet sunk into the depths. "This…is nice. Thank you, Anders."
"Just doing my duty as healer," Anders said, though he offered the elf a smile. He let Fenris soak his feet for several minutes, listening to the patter of rain on the roof and the glass of the window. Anders drew the elf's feet out, carefully drying them with a towel.
"How do you feel? How are your feet?"
"Better," Fenris admitted. "My feet are still a bit sore though."
Anders nodded, uncorking the bottle of oil and doling some out. He heard Fenris draw in a deep, appreciative breath when the oil hit his foot; it warmed him as Anders took the foot and started to slowly massage the bottom.
Fenris let out a hiss as Ander's thumb brushed across a blister, stilling at once when healing magic gently touched the wound. Anders healed another blister, and then another on the opposite foot.
Once he had healed the last one, Fenris tried to pull away from the mage. "Thank you," Fenris said, tugging. "I-"
"I'm not done," Anders said quietly, looking up at the elf with what was probably a silly, pleading expression. He just…wanted to make the elf feel good, even if it wasn't with something sexual. Anders, contrary to popular belief, did like to make others feel appreciated. He was an affectionate man, even with past lovers who had shared nothing with him except one passionate night. He liked showing how he felt to another, and he counted himself lucky at all that his object of affection/lust was actually returning his feelings years after the start of it.
But that didn't stop the need to try to make the elf happy, to show affection for the man he had come to care for. And with Fenris being a little skittish with public displays, Anders only had time for this behind closed doors.
Fenris frowned down at him before giving a minute shrug. "If that is what you want." That said, he leaned back in his chair, foot held out gracefully towards the mage.
He would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought, at least on a few scattered occasions, what it would be like to spend a quiet evening with the elf, without the talk of mages or templars or slavers coming up, and just…being. He had also daydreamed a handful of times what it would be like to offer Fenris something simple, but something that was also pleasant for the elf. Yet those idle fantasies had never really had the soil to ground themselves, to take root, and to flourish.
Anders gently grasped it, catching the elf's eye as he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the insole. The elf merely raised an eyebrow and then motioned for the mage to continue.
Anders did so, fingers digging gently into the instep, the sole, and even between the elf's long graceful toes. Fenris, thankfully, was quiet throughout the whole thing, merely sitting there and letting Anders continue his ministrations.
It was…peaceful, what with the comfortable silence between them and the sound of the rain coming down. Occasionally Anders would pause in the massage to offer a soft kiss to the foot he was working on, or to boldly kiss the elf's ankle or calf. He didn't dare go higher- he had no other intentions than to make Fenris feel better, and to make him feel…well, appreciated and cared for.
Anders finished up with a light kiss on the very tops of Fenris' toes, drawing a soft sigh of contentment from the elf.
"I…thank you. That was unexpected, but not unappreciated," Fenris rumbled, his voice echoed by a soft roll of thunder outside.
The mage offered a grin. "Mission accomplished then. C'mon, let's get dressed before Zev comes back."
"Would you be averse to going downstairs and sharing a bowl of stew?"
Anders blinked, turning to stare at the elf who was resolutely staring out the rain streaked window. While they had eaten together many times before, Fenris had never really…asked. Dinner was eaten when one was hungry, and sometimes his and Fenris' schedule just didn't match up. To ask, formally almost, for his company…
Anders beamed.
"I'd be honored to."
The returning smile from the warrior was enough to put a spring in the mage's step as they headed downstairs.
Anders was awakened suddenly by an odd sound: Zevran cursing.
Immediately, this told the mage several things at once. One, Zevran was, obviously, upset about something. Two, his being upset meant that Anders should probably be cowering in a corner somewhere under a blanket. Three, Zevran never really cursed unless it was bad. Like, giant statues coming to life and then trying to kill them, bad.
He sat up in bed, eyes quickly growing accustomed to the dimness of the room.
Two pairs of glowing eyes glanced back at him, one green and the other gold.
"We must leave," Zevran hissed, golden eyes sharp and knowing. "I received a tipoff. Someone will be coming after you tonight, and we must be gone from this city before then. I have horses waiting outside. Grab whatever is important and easy to carry, and let us go."
With all three of his criteria checked off, Anders leapt into action, quickly grabbing his things and getting dressed. Fenris was already alert and armored; if they hadn't fallen into bed hours earlier, Anders would have thought that the warrior had never undressed.
Within the hour, all three men were out of Denerim, on horses, and riding towards Amaranthine.
"If we are lucky, we will run into the Wardens on the way there," Zevran had explained earlier. "I doubt my Warden will travel alone; she will have backup. I will feel much safer once we are back under her wing, my friends."
At this point in time, if Zevran was worried and not fighting the problem in his roguish way, then Anders would also be quite happy to be back under the Commander's wings- even if it meant a sound thrashing later for abandoning his post when he was still in the Wardens.
He glanced over at Fenris, his eyes glancing over the elf's scars. Yes, he thought. He could learn to live with whatever marks she left him with.
Anders leaned forward in his saddle more, uncomfortable with the constant jarring. He was not an experienced rider; Fenris had had to give him a boost, and had wrapped the reins around his hands several times for a little extra security.
Fenris, being the mysterious brooding dark elf he was, seemed quite at home on top of his beast, even offering the animal occasional words of soft encouragement. Zevran was much the same, though he wasn't as charitable as Fenris; he snarled as much as cooed to his horse, urging all three of them to hurry, to go faster.
They passed from the muddy road and into the trees, Zevran's cursing becoming more and more profane as they went on.
It wasn't until Anders was hit with a blast of magic-dampening energy that he truly realized how very well fucked they were.
"Trap," he gasped, trying to speak louder, but the two elves remained deaf, only hearing the swearing from the assassin and the pounding of hooves from the horses. Anders collapsed against his horse's neck, wrapping his arms around it, desperately fighting to stay in the saddle and not slide free like his body wanted him to.
The assassin's cursing was abruptly silenced only to be covered by Fenris letting loose a foul stream of language. Anders heard the horses neighing and stamping on the ground, and quite suddenly, his own beast came to a stop. He slowly, lethargically, lifted his head, taking in the scene.
Templars, in full regalia, surrounded their group, too many to count, and certainly too many for them to try to jump with the horses. Tilting his head, Anders noted that the Templars at the front had erected barricades and held their shields at the ready.
Fenris edged his horse closer to Anders', voice growling out, "I'm assuming the reason you haven't attacked them yet-"
"They Silenced me a while back," Anders said apologetically. "Sorry. I tried to tell you-"
He cut himself off when Zevran up ahead started yelling at who appeared to be the leader.
"I do not care who you are," the assassin snarled, eyes gleaming in rage. "I am on Warden business with these two, and I will not be stopped by the likes of you!"
"Can't be Warden business," a Templar muttered to another beside him. "That one there ran away from 'em."
"In all fairness, you don't run away from being a Warden," Anders said weakly.
"Anders, formerly of the Wardens, and formerly of the Fereldan Circle," the leader said, easily stepping around Zevran's horse and coming to stand beside the mage. "You are a long time wanted Apostate who escaped into the Wardens before you could be tried for the deaths of your Templar guardians. You then blew up a house of worship and murdered the Grand Cleric along with countless innocent believers who were inside at the time. I am here to bring you to justice."
"And the irony never ceases," Anders muttered.
"If you resist, I have been ordered to bring you in using force." The helmeted man nodded back towards the wall of steel plates. "And believe me when I say I certainly have the force necessary to take down a Silenced mage and his comrades."
"You will not have him."
Anders started, glancing aside at Fenris. The elf looked furious; his frown was set, one hand was holding the reins and the other was on the hilt of his sword. Anders was sure that if it were still possible, Fenris would also be glowing.
The Templar looked at Fenris, eyes calculating beneath the helmet. "You do not seem like a thrall," he commented after a moment. "However, without testing we cannot be sure. Take them."
With a loud bang and a flash of pain in his head, Anders found himself off his horse and on the ground, with about ten Templars bearing down on him. Fuzzily, he could make out Fenris dashing in front of him, sword swinging and waving as the elf moved from target to target, cutting and tearing limbs and soaking the ground with blood. Anders felt a small bit of pride; that was his elf, doing what he did. Go Fenris.
Zevran was nowhere to be seen, nor the leader and a fair few of the other Templars. Anders felt a spark of hope; perhaps Zevran had escaped, leading the Templars on a merry goosechase-
He jerked, startled when he heard a pained, inhuman cry.
Fenris!
The number of Templars had caught up with the elf while Anders had been distracted, and Anders watched, horrified, as the elf collapsed when one of the other men bashed the back of his head with his shield.
Anders watched Fenris, beautiful, wonderful, recalcitrant Fenris, fall. When he hit the ground, Anders lost track of any conscious thought. All he knew was that in a heartbeat, he was there beside the elf, standing over him, snarling and yelling at any who tried to come closer. He was reaching for his magic, he knew it was there, knew it within his soul. This one time, it wouldn't fail him. He would protect Fenris, he would-
Anders let out a scream as one of the Templars ran a sword through his leg, deftly pulling it free and letting the mage collapse on top of the elf. The clank of metal was getting louder-
Desperate, Anders reached once again for his magic. Nothing; just cold emptiness, nothing to catch and spark into anything remotely helpful.
Fenris moaned beneath him. Anders moved, covering more of the elf with his form. He wouldn't let them touch Fenris, wounded or not. Abruptly, they all stopped, and Anders felt his stomach drop.
"He's down, he won't be going nowhere with that leg," one of them called. "Let's get cleaned up and head out."
"Boss isn't back yet," another pointed out.
Another one, wearing a green sash, considered Anders and the unconscious elf for a moment. "We could have some fun," he said slowly. "Kill time until the boss-"
No, Anders thought desperately. No no no! Maker, please, please don't let them-
"Why?" Another snorted, wearing a blue sash. "He ain't your type."
"No," Green sash agreed. "But that elf is. A little worn around the edges, but still nice to look at. Bet he's a good little cock sucker."
NO!
This couldn't, shouldn't be happening, Anders thought, panicking. He couldn't let them touch Fenris; Fenris had been abused enough, he didn't need to be sexually used on top of everything else. He didn't want Fenris to be angry anymore; he wanted the warrior to smile and laugh more, he wanted to make him happy. And these beasts wanted to paw him over like he was a toy instead of a living, breathing man with issues and problems.
Anders slowly tilted his head to look up at the two Templars who had spoken. He glanced at his leg, eyeing the steady flow of red. He licked his lips, calculating the risk and the worth.
Dealing for the rest of his miserable life with demons, having to adjust his magic, having his healing magic greatly weakened, and forever in danger of being executed on sight due to being a malificar- or he could protect Fenris.
Why am I thinking about this?
It was definitely worth it, he thought darkly as he tentatively reached out mentally to the blood, to his life essence.
Surprisingly, it answered almost immediately, right away at his beck and call. The power, his power, had always been there, just waiting for him to tap into it.
He silently gathered the energy inside him, preparing the spell. He then waited, eyeing the two Templars warily. He would wait until they came closer; he wasn't sure how much control he would have over this, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least take the two who were openly discussing such horrific things.
They started walking towards him and Fenris, and Anders readied himself for the plunge.
"Take another step towards the prisoners and I'll see you charged and hanged."
The leader was back and he sounded genuinely pissed. Relieved, Anders let go of the heady magic; it flowed back to where it belonged, still whispering to him.
"What about the other elf?" another Templar asked.
The leader sighed, seeming truly weary. "He won't trouble us any longer."
Anders felt whatever hope that had been there, festering in his heart, snuff out like a weak light.
"Tie them both up and load them up. He will want to see them."
Anders' last thought before he lost consciousness was who 'he' was.
AN: A little of something in this one, eh? Not sure if I'll have another update next weekend or not. Some of you keep asking/encouraging me to finish this. I might be a little slow with updates, but I do plan on finishing this one. I have the spark for it, and I have the plot, it's just a matter of finding the time to sit down and write it all out. I post first to the k!meme, then this one. My LJ is the only one that is very sporadic with updates, mainly because I'm too lazy/busy at the moment to deal with that.
Till next time, my duckies.