AN: Finally back with an update. Huzzah! Don't know when the next one will be, but at least I know where I'm going after this update, so that's a plus.
A note for this chapter: I'm not sure if this is canon or not, but I'm running on the assumption that if you use blood magic, your healing abilities fall dramatically. Also, yay! I got to use some of my German! XD
Also, I was looking back over what I've posted so far...um, apparently I missed a chapter on this site. So chapter 4 has been expanded, and now the beginning of the story makes a little more sense. Sorry guys!

Enjoy this installment...I hope.

Fenris did not awaken slowly or quietly.

Memories were rushing through him like a hurricane, bits and pieces of his past and present (and future?) whirling and battering around in his mind, confusing him.

There was his master, cooing and coddling him like a spoiled favorite pet. "My little wolf." He smells of blood and lyrium and Fenris cannot flinch when his master starts stroking his ears.

Hawke shimmered into view, offering him a wicked smile and drawing him into her, drinking in her sweet kisses like a delicious, well-aged wine. He smiles against her lips, pulling her tighter against him-

There was a knife above him, darting and quick. There is blood, there is pain, and the knife keeps flashing and flashing-

With a roar, he leapt to his feet, hands clenching into fists and striking out in random directions to ward off would be enemies, to stop the complete agony that has come to define his life.

There is a shout of surprise from nearby and he lurches towards it blindly, intent on harming whatever is there before-

A much larger body is suddenly on top of him, pinning him and his flailing limbs down to the stone floor. Fenris froze, waiting for pain.

"Easy, ser," a voice commanded sharply. "Don't make me have to tie you down."

Slowly, the warrior nodded, his vision clearing and his mind catching up with the waking world.

"Good," the voice said, a voice Fenris had heard before. "Now, I'm going to let you up slowly. No sudden movements. You had a nasty knock to the back of your head. Promise to be good?"

Gingerly, Fenris nodded again and the armored human let him up.

Fenris glanced around, taking in his new surroundings.

"Where am I?"

"Fort Drakon," the Templar said, standing and wiping his hands off. "We took you and the fugitive here for safe keeping until Anders' trial can commence."

Fenris glanced up at the Templar, frowning at the stern human. "You were the leader."

"Knight Captain Byron, at your service," the man said with a curt nod.

Fenris considered the human before him: tall, human, dark hair, stern blue eyes. Wearing the Templar uniform, complete with shield and sword. He stood there in a relaxed yet ready stance. Wondering just how much information he would be able to get out of his captor, Fenris decided to throw caution to the wind.

"What happened to the assassin? Where is Anders?"

Byron frowned, shaking his head. "The other elf, I'm sorry to say, is dead by my hand. He refused to give up and come quietly and attacked me."

Fenris fought back a wince. "The mage?"

"The fugitive Anders is in an isolated cell down the hall."

The elf couldn't help the wince that shuddered through his frame at that answer. "Please," he said gruffly, looking at the floor. "Is he…?"

"He should have had someone look at his leg already," Byron said, sounding surprisingly gentle. "He has mean accommodations, but he does have them."

"Light," Fenris asked, glancing back up at the human. "Does he have light or is he in darkness?"

Byron shrugged. "He has light, of course. Why would we keep him in the dark? We're holding him for trial, not torturing him!"

"That remains to be seen."

The Templar glared at him. "Whatever crimes he may or may not have committed, he deserves to be treated like any other man, with proper healing, food, and shelter. I would not stand for anything less, I assure you."

"Your assurances mean little to me," Fenris replied, staggering to his feet. The room swayed for a moment before a firm shake of his head righted things. He looked up at the other man, eyes defiant even though the human towered over him. "Am I a prisoner here as well?"

Byron paused for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "No, you are not. However, given your previous state and the request from the accuser, I thought it was best to…keep an eye on you."

Fenris cocked an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean?"

The Templar Captain actually looked vaguely uncomfortable now. "When you were knocked out and Anders had been put out of commission, some of my men…discussed how useful your mouth would be. Those men have been dismissed and sent back to Denerim, but I wanted to make sure personally that no one got any ideas about the unconscious elf down in the dungeons."

The elf snorted, unimpressed. "So you thought that instead of sharing, you'd keep the unconscious, helpless elf to yourself then."

Byron's face flushed red, whether in anger or embarrassment Fenris wasn't sure. "How-how dare you!" he hissed, taking a step forward before stopping himself. "A good, honest Templar has vows, and even if I didn't take mine seriously, I wouldn't stoop so low as to attack an unconscious man under my care!"

"But you would not hesitate to attack a conscious one?" Fenris replied, taking a step back, eyes already dancing around the room looking for anything to use as a weapon.

"Maker's Breath, no!" Byron said, holding his hands up, placating. "I swear on Andraste's ashes I won't touch you. Please, ser, at least give me your name so I can report back to the Prince."

"Prince?" Fenris asked, head cocked now from curiosity.

Byron nodded. "Yes. The Prince of Starkhaven is the accuser. He wishes to see you before you leave, at your convenience."

Anders awoke to pain and movement, his leg and head throbbing as he was dragged across the ground…no, the floor, he realized distantly. He was inside…somewhere? Yes, somewhere, he decided as one of the guards carrying him sneezed loudly. But where? And when, he added as his head throbbed again.

Anders shook his head, trying to clear it. He caught himself as his escorts tossed him forward, head held low as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Anders."

Slowly, Anders looked up, using his arms and stomach instead of his legs to lift up high enough to see who had spoken.

He was in a small sitting room with a roaring fire in the fireplace, a table that held what looked like bread and butter…and a chair, which was currently occupied by a man with a rather fierce, angry looking countenance, his red hair and tangled beard adding to the appearance of one pissed off, raving mad Starkhavener.

Anders swallowed. "Sebastian."

"I would be lying if I said it was a pleasure to see you again, Anders," the prince said evenly, the fire light making the man's blue eyes seem flinty and hard. "But I take peace in knowing that soon, the Maker will pass judgment on you, and I will be there to see it acted out on this earth, just like I promised you I would."

Anders did not reply, merely blinking up at the prince in slight confusion.

Sebastian seemed to have noticed. "What, Anders?"

"I don't remember you promising that."

That simple statement was enough to send Sebastian to his feet, jaw clenched and face furious. "I was there when the Chantry blew, Anders! I swore to you, as you stood there gleefully rejoicing in the chaos and death you had created, that I would go back to Starkhaven and reclaim my throne, that I would build up an army, and that I would find you and teach you the true meaning of justice!"

Anders frowned up at the man, his head still feeling off and fuzzy. He remembered, very dimly, of Sebastian being there when the Chantry had unexpectedly blown, but he had been too distracted by the thought of Hawke being there to have really paid any attention to the waffling prince.

Apparently, Anders needed to pay more attention to such things, if this was the result of his inattention.

"You've been on the run since then," the prince hissed, starting to walk around the prone mage. "For the longest time, I had no idea where you were. Then, I caught wind that you had returned to Kirkwall. From there, I tracked you here. And now, here you are, right where you belong- at my feet, begging for mercy."

"I will not," Anders said softly, wearily.

"What was that?"

"I will not," Anders repeated, louder this time. "Beg for mercy from you. If I am to do such a thing, it'll be with someone who wasn't such a bloody hypocrite!"

That earned him a swift, hard smack to his face. Anders turned his head to the side, the flare of pain on his cheek nothing compared to the fire that had been ignited in his belly. He slowly turned back to face the archer, his brown eyes clearing and hardening with determination.

"You still don't see it, do you?" he spat. "First you believe in the imprisonment of mages-"

"It is for their safety and ours," Sebastian retorted.

"-which leads to easily covering up the abuse and torture some of us go through," Anders continued, unperturbed at Sebastian's interruption.

"You wanted to turn me and Merrill into the Templars, when you know damn well that she wouldn't have lasted a week in there! Don't shake your head," he snarled. "I was there when you discussed it with Fenris. That was the only time I felt like I really wanted to hug the angry blighter, when he told you he would not turn any of us in, and that you would have to take it up with Hawke.

"Then, you preach the love and safety of the Maker, while now you stand before me, claiming to be his judge and agent of justice on earth. Oh, and let's not forget that lovely conversation you had with Aveline, about how good people know when it is necessary to sacrifice themselves for a leader's cause? This, coming from the same man who claimed to want to help and heal the poor and afflicted of Kirkwall!"

"Enough," Sebastian bellowed, but Anders didn't listen.

"Was that what you were doing, prince?" he spat the title like he would if he had swallowed something foul. "Fattening up the good people of that foreign city, so they would rise up to meet you when you called on them? Lambs for the slaughter, the lot of them!"

The prince hit him again, but instead of cowering, Anders glared up at the furious man, teeth bared like an animal. Smugly, he turned his face, offering the other cheek.

"I'm not the abomination here," he said, feeling a tad ironic saying that. "You are, you who would doom cities of people just for one man."

"I am doing the Maker's will," Sebastian said, chest heaving as he reigned in his temper, his eyes glaring coldly at the mage. "He wants mages protected and away from the normal populace, He wants there to be justice in this world, and He wants you to pay for what you did."

"He does, does He?" Anders mocked. "Or is this just something you want?"

"You killed innocent people, Anders," Sebastian returned. "You killed the Grand Cleric, an agent of the Maker. And you killed Hawke."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Anders cackled, firmly pushing away his dizziness. No way was he going to miss this.

"You wanted her."

Sebastian actually stiffened, eyes widening in surprise. "I," he stammered. "I did not-"

"You did," Anders said quietly, offering the prince a knowing look. "We all did."

"She chose Fenris," Sebastian said stiffly. "Besides, I had my vows-"

"It's not a sin if you talk or think about it," Anders pointed out shrewdly. "You wanted her. I saw you looking more often than not, your majesty. I also saw the looks you gave Fenris when you thought he wasn't looking. Not that I can't blame you, he's a lovely man-"

Anders actually saw stars this time when the blow landed. He shook his head, hoping the ringing in his ears would stop soon.

"You know nothing," the prince spat. "Fenris was my friend and I admired him as a fellow comrade. You will not drag him down into such filth!"

"Too late," Anders laughed.

"Speak, now!"

"What?" the mage asked, his arms giving out and his face hitting the cool floor. "Can't stand the thought that you not only didn't get Hawke, but that Fenris is now with a mage?"

"You lie," Sebastian whispered, his eyes impassive. "The only way he would follow you would be with blood magic. You blew up a house of worship and killed countless people. Blood magic is not beyond you."

"Indeed it isn't," Anders breathed, closing his eyes as his head started to pound again. "I nearly resorted to it when some of your men started talking about how useful Fenris' mouth might be."

"They wouldn't," Sebastian replied immediately. "They are all good, upstanding men, sworn to the service of the Maker."

"They did, and if it wasn't for your leader, I would have made a deal with any demon to keep that elf safe."

"Once we figure out how to lift whatever spell you-"

He broke off when the mage started to laugh darkly.

"Really, Sebastian? You know so little of both me and Fenris, even though you ran around with us for years under Hawke's command. Fenris is with me voluntarily."

"Liar," said the prince coolly. "Fenris would no sooner follow you than I would."

"Perhaps," the mage said. "But at least with Fenris, I can reason with him. Can't do that with you."

"It seems that this is a waste of time," the prince snapped, his footsteps walking away from the fallen mage. "Take him back!"

As he was dragged back to his cell, Anders wondered where Fenris was, and how he was faring.

Fenris was Not Happy.

He had been cooped up in this one room for several days now, with regular meals and the occasional visit from Ser Byron. He asked, repeatedly, to see Anders, but each time he was quietly refused by the Knight Captain.

"I do not have permission to take you to see him," Byron said one morning when Fenris had again demanded to see the mage. "In all likelihood, they do not want you near him in case he tries to enthrall you."

"He would do no such thing," Fenris replied coldly. "I am with him of my own free will. He saved my life and gave me purpose. It would be wrong of me to leave him now."

Byron paused, his gauntleted hand tapping thoughtfully on his scabbard. "He saved your life?"

"Yes. The mage is a damn good healer."

"Healer? The prince was certain he had turned to blood magic," Byron said, almost to himself. "If he had, then he wouldn't have access to his healing magic."

"I am living proof that his art is still a nurturing, gentle one," Fenris said, holding his arms out to indicate his form. "Now, may I go to him? I wish to see if he is alright."

He could see the conflict on Ser Byron's face, so decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Please," he begged softly, stepping forward towards the larger man. "I'll do anything, but please-"

"Don't offer such things," Byron growled, staring down at the elf with an unrecognizable expression. "Just…I'll help you. Give me some time, and I'll see what I can do."

This was several hours ago, and all Fenris could do was wait, and pace his room. There was a bed, a desk, a chair, and a bookcase full of scrolls and books, but the elf couldn't force himself to be interested- he was too agitated and too worried for Anders.

Finally, finally, Byron came back with an unknown mage in tow. Fenris glared at the mage before ignoring him and turning his attention to Byron.

"He is coming along to make sure that if something does happen, he can counteract it," Byron said by way of explanation before leading Fenris out of the room.

When Fenris walked into Anders' cell, he wasn't sure what he had expected. He hoped to find the mage unharmed, possibly scribbling mage freedom nonsense on a free piece of parchment or trying to charm the fort's felines. He feared to walk in on a torture session, with Anders at the mercy of the Templars.

Instead, he walked in to something much worse.

There was light in the cell, and there was a bed and a plate of food- Byron had not lied about that. But when he saw his healer curled up in a ball on the floor, his face and body bloodied and bruised, and all alone, Fenris couldn't stop the choked sound that escaped him as he ran to his friend, dropping next to the mage and gingerly trying to wake him.

"Anders," he begged. "Please, wake up. Let me see you."

The mage stirred, turning his face towards the elf's voice. Fenris stilled as his eyes opened, and warm honey stared up at him.

"Hallo," Anders said softly, slowly reaching up and caressing the warrior's cheek. "Fenris."

The elf leaned into the touch, taking comfort in the fact that his healer seemed to remember him. He turned towards Byron, a snarl on his face as he gripped Anders against him.

"You said he was being taken care of!" he roared. "You lying son of a-"

"He should have been!" Byron roared back. He calmed himself, growling. "Shit. This should not have…Maker, Terri, go help him."

The mage scurried forward, only to scurry back a few steps when Fenris growled warningly at him.

"Fenris," Byron said, sounding tired. "Terri will help him. Terri is a healer too."

The elf let the other mage come closer, keeping a sharp eye on him as he worked his magic. Several moments later, and he was done and Anders was more aware of his surroundings.

"Fenris," Anders said quietly while Terri conferred with Byron. "Sebastian is here."

"I know, carum," Fenris muttered, not catching his language slip. "He wishes to see me before I leave."

"Oh," Anders said, seeming to deflate in the elf's arms. Fenris frowned down at him.

"I'm not leaving without you," he added dryly.

"Oh," Anders repeated, sounding much happier this time. "I…that's good. I've come to enjoy your company."

"As I have yours," Fenris replied with a small smile.

"What did you call me?"

Fenris blinked. "What did I call you what?"

"Earlier," Anders said, blinking languidly up at the elf, completely at ease. "Sounded like…carum," he said, his accent rough but translatable.

The elf flushed. "I-"

"Fenris," Byron interrupted, coming over and crouching next to them. "I will report this to the prince. He will make sure who did this is properly chastised."

"I doubt it," Anders chuckled. "He's the one who gave the go-ahead for this."

"Do not lie, prisoner," Byron said sternly. "Prince Sebastian would never authorize the beating of a prisoner. It's unethical-"

"He truly believes that, doesn't he?" Anders asked Fenris, looking surprised.

"He does."

"Poor fool," Anders sighed, ignoring Byron's indignant spluttering. "Oh well, he'll see how wrong he is soon enough I'd imagine."

"What do you mean?" Fenris asked, clutching the mage tighter.

Anders sighed. "He said he's going to try me in the court of the Maker, or something like that. Trial, either way. Fun stuff."

Byron managed to drag the elf away some time later, claiming that it would do the mage more harm to be seen with the elf.

"He must be kept isolated," Byron said as he escorted Fenris back to his room. "I will watch over him from now on personally until he is called to trial."

Slightly mollified, Fenris fell into a fitful sleep that night, dreaming of golden fields, golden hair, and sunlight.

Nearly two weeks later, he was summoned to see the prince. Fenris wasn't sure what to expect; he remembered his friend from before he had been sold back to his master, but from what he had heard and seen with Anders, it sounded as if the former Chantry brother had become someone else entirely.

So it was with surprise and trepidation that he entered the prince's room, stopping short when he saw Anders kneeling there, hands bound behind his back and his mouth gagged. Sebastian, now sporting a long beard, stood before him. He glanced up at the elf, his mouth breaking from a cold frown into a warm smile.

"Fenris! It is good to see you again my friend!"

"Sebastian," Fenris greeted cautiously, inclining his head slightly. "What is going on?"

"It's all taken care of, Fenris."

"What do you speak of?"

"It'll be fine, my friend. I was just telling the abomination that I just came from his trial. You will be pleased to know that the decision they reached was unanimous."

Fenris cocked his head, frowning. The healer had not been let out of his cell this whole time- Byron had been keeping Fenris up to date the last week or so with messages, and three visits to see the healer. Not once had Anders mentioned being away from his cell.

Eyes widening in realization, he stared at the prince.

"You…you did not allow him to attend his own trial?"

It was absurd, ridiculous, and…disconcerting. Even in Teventer, the accused was expected to attend their own trial. Only slaves were not summoned to court proceedings- it was deemed unnecessary, as they had no rights to begin with anyway.

That Fenris' friend, a former Chantry brother no less, would condone and even encourage such action was upsetting.

"Sebastian, you cannot do this!"

"It is the will of the Maker, Fenris," Sebastian said, his smile faltering. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy to finally see the abomination on his knees, ready to be judged for his past crimes."

"He is an abomination no longer," Fenris said curtly. "And you denied him the right to attend his own trial."

"It wasn't needed," the prince said flippantly. "And what did you mean he is no longer an abomination? He still has his head on his shoulders."

"He rid himself of the spirit before I fell into his care," Fenris replied, staring at the unmoving mage. "Sebastian," he started, but the prince cut him off.

"The decision is final, Fenris. Anders is to be executed at high noon tomorrow."

Anders wasn't sure exactly what had happened after Sebastian had announced his impending death- he had heard a strangled noise from Fenris, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and then the guards came bursting into the room under the tirade of Fenris shouting himself hoarse in his native tongue.

"Stop!" Sebastian's voice called out, and all noises immediately ceased. "He is not himself. Take him back to his room, and get this filth out of my sight."

Hours later, Anders lay curled up on his bed, staring blankly at the wall.

He wasn't afraid of death, not really; being a Grey Warden was a curse, albeit a long suffering one. He was living on borrowed time to begin with. Sebastian was just making sure that Anders didn't live to suffer the worsening of the nightmares and his inevitable descent into the Deep Roads (he hated the Deep Roads) to fight Darkspawn until he was overtaken.

Anders just wished…well, he was being selfish. He didn't want to leave Fenris; he cared deeply for the elf, possibly more than was appropriate. The other man had just started to warm up to him, had just started to accept him…and now he was going to die.

Such was his life, he mused dejectedly.

He didn't sleep that night, and when morning came, he was ready when the guards came to him.

Ser Byron led the way this time, face somber. "I have sent word to Denerim about the outstanding circumstances surrounding your imprisonment and treatment by the prince. Someone should be coming before-"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit," Anders snapped. "No one is coming to take charge, to right every wrong that has been committed to me here. They would have a much smaller mess if they just let me swing."

And with that, he pushed past the Knight Captain, and led the way to his own execution.

He had to admit, he was surprised at the modest turnout to his execution. Sebastian, of course, was there, watching over everything with a strangely proud gleam in his eye, situated in front of the dead tree that held the rope that would end his life. The guards and a handful of Templars were all lined up, their helmeted faces watching his every move. Almost all of Fort Drakon had turned out to watch him hang.

Even poor Fenris.

The elf was boxed in behind Sebastian, bound in rope- Anders was only a few yards away from the both of the prince and elf. He stood there, patiently waiting as a sister of the Chantry started to recite a chant, hoping that his soul would be absolved, that he would go to the side of the Maker, blah blah blah.

When she had finished, she departed, and the hangman came forward with a large black horse, his masked face somewhat of a blessing to Anders- he couldn't bear to think of who could stand to do this for a living.

"Do you have any last requests, messere?" the executioner asked, his horse snorting and stomping impatiently behind him.

Anders considered, his eyes landing squarely on Fenris. "Yes. May I please speak for a few minutes with that elf?"

The hangman slowly nodded. "Aye, but not too long, mind. Got a schedule to keep."

"Of course," Anders said pleasantly as Fenris was dragged before him, his green eyes never wavering from Anders'.

Anders offered the warrior a small smile when he halted not inches from his face.

"Hallo, Fenris," he said softly.

"Healer," Fenris breathed. "I'm so sorry, I've tried to…but they've-"

"I can see that," Anders said, frowning at the bruises on the elf's neck and arms. "I'll make sure that my spirit haunts Sebastian for the rest of his miserable life for that."

"Anders," Fenris said quietly. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop them."

The mage nodded sadly. "Me too, Fenris." He leaned closer, his lips brushing over the elf's cheek before he was yanked away. As he was shoved into the saddle, a sense of calm and clarity fell over him, despite watching Fenris start to struggle with the guards, trying to reach Anders.

He would die, and Fenris would move on. And yet, he couldn't help but worry for the warrior. Fenris had such a horrible history when it came to companions, and Anders was about to add to the list once more.

He cracked his neck a little as the rope was slipped over his head, the hangman messing with the knot to tighten it properly. He felt the executioner step back and hop to the ground, the horse shifting nervously beneath him, and he knew his time was up.

Perhaps, if they had been given enough time, he would have been able to say this to Fenris later on, in a more private setting, and in a language they could both understand. Instead, he reverted to his almost forgotten mother tongue, hoping that at least this way, it would remain private.

"Ich liebt dich, Fenris," he called out to the elf, just as the horse jolted out from under him.

The last thing he was before the world blurred and then blacked was Fenris' surprised eyes and his mouth forming a shout.

AN: Please don't kill me! *ducks* Also, one shouldn't read such things about different types of hanging right before bed, as one gets disturbing dreams.
Hopefully Sebastian wasn't too out of character...let me know what you think.
Till next time, duckies!