Fenris was never one to throw fits when something didn't go his way. Most of his life had operated on the whims of someone else; what did it matter if he didn't agree with what happened? Being upset and storming around would not have changed anything, save to give him more grief or perhaps a beating or two. So he had learned to turn inward when it came to situations he would rather not deal with face to face- until rather recently, it had made his life a little easier to bear.

Yet he was learning new things with his ill-gained freedom; to laugh openly, to retort verbally, and to fight for himself rather than another master. He felt that he was using his newfound freedom appropriately now.

Mostly by cursing the Warden Commander, of course.

She had indeed sent Anders back to the barracks once she was done with him- close to three bells in the morning. Fenris, who had not been able to sleep in the strange new environment, uncurled himself from his bed when the door opened and Anders stumbled in, the healer muttering incoherently under his breath as he patted his way to an empty bed and promptly collapsed on it.

Concerned, Fenris got up and made his way over, bare feet padding softly on the chilly stone floor.

"Healer?"

He received no answer save for a soft, muffled snore.

The warrior sighed, rubbing his temples. He glanced around furtively, noticing that no one else had been awakened by Anders' entrance. Without another word, he ducked under the frame of the bunk, crawling gingerly over the mage and taking up residence between Anders and the wall. He draped an arm loosely around Anders' waist and buried his face into the mage's shoulders. Fenris calmed somewhat as he breathed in Anders' scent- he still smelled of tea and elfroot. Whatever he had been up to didn't involve anything smelly, at least.

When he awoke the next morning, he was alone in bed and the room. He ran a hand down the sheets where Anders had lain the night before; they were cold. He had been gone for some time.

Ignoring the painful twinge in his chest, Fenris quietly got up and left the barracks.

He was not surprised when he could not find the mage; he searched the library, the dining hall (which for some reason was always busy), the courtyard where a group of Wardens were training, and even a few empty rooms that seemed to hold no purpose other than storage. Inevitably, he came to the reluctant conclusion that his mage was with the Commander.

Miffed beyond measure, he stormed out of the keep and into the courtyard, growling at a red-haired dwarf who bumped into him on the way out. Ignoring the dwarf's slurred cursing, Fenris grabbed the nearest sword and started practicing on a dummy, quickly rendering it to nothing more than wood and bits of straw.

For two weeks, this was his routine. Anders would come stumbling in early in the morning, Fenris would join him in bed, and he would awaken to an empty bed. He would grab some breakfast, and then spend the rest of his day in the courtyard, training.

After the second day of this, his body began to ache. A hot bath helped, but he seemed to have pulled a shoulder or a back muscle in one of his exercises. Ignoring it, he continued to train regardless- he didn't have a choice. If he didn't do something with himself, he might scream.

Unlike Anders, Fenris was not needed elsewhere- he was not a Warden, and could not be expected to accompany patrols. He was not a mage or a healer, so working in the infirmary would have been pointless. And so he stuck with his training.

The only other thing of note was that there seemed to be another man, a Warden, who had taken to watching him train in the courtyard. He never chased Fenris off, never attempted to talk to the elf and he never practiced at the same time as the warrior. Instead, he was a silent watcher, possibly a spy sent by the Commander to make sure he actually stayed away from Anders like she had commanded. It wouldn't have bothered Fenris, save for the way the man's eyes followed him as he went through his exercises, gaze piercing, which along with his nose, gave him the appearance of a bird of prey.

Gritting his teeth whenever he saw the strange man, Fenris ignored him and the odd Warden stayed silent and did not approach him. The closest the man had ever come to him must have been about fifty paces or so. So, Fenris ignored him and just focused on his training, eating enough to fill his belly, and crawling into one bed at night only to wake up in a different one, recently left vacant and cold.

It had been two weeks of this, and Fenris was losing patience.

He was in the courtyard, practicing with his sword. He was hoping to have recovered enough that he could soon more on to heavier weaponry…but he was not yet ready. He was probably wearing his body out, but again, going to bed with stiff muscles and waking up to sore ones was certainly better than losing his mind. If his healer knew what he was doing, he would probably have been scolded soundly, Fenris thought idly.

Even so, he ignored his quivering limbs, putting himself through his paces, bare feet scrambling on the stone of the courtyard as the noon autumn sun warmed the back of his sweaty neck. Fenris felt the reassuring, comforting roar of adrenaline as he went through his exercises, giving him more speed, more strength. For once, the strange Warden was not present.

He halted, looking around as he caught his breath. The elf smiled at the familiar shade of ginger that had just stepped into his line of sight.

"Aveline," he rumbled.

"Fenris," she greeted, coming over and nodding a greeting. "How goes your training?"

Tenderly, Fenris popped his neck. "It goes."

"Care for a match?"

He blinked at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He had made no secret of his admiration of her fighting form in the past, but had never had the honor to fight her one on one. If he still had his markings, he would have jumped at the chance. But without them-

Could I take on a woman such as Aveline without the markings?

Why not? He had stormed through the Kirkwall Gallows with only a rouge to help him, had helped take out a group of blood mages, and helped fell a skeleton wyvern.

He smirked, drawing his blade and slipping into a ready stance.

If he had held his own against a skeleton wyvern, then he might stand half a chance holding off Aveline.

The ginger offered him a proud, pleased smile, drew her shield, settling into a bracing stance. With a rallying, terrifying roar, she immediately charged him.

It was one thing to spar by yourself, with only the dust motes, your surroundings and your imagination as your only company; it was a completely different game with an actual partner. With another person sparring with you, depending on the skill level, it was harder than simply by yourself- you had to watch out for not only your own safety but theirs as well if they weren't as skilled. Various other elements added danger to the fight as well- environment, spectators, extra circumstances that couldn't be foreseen.

Aveline, beautiful, strong Aveline, could certainly take care of herself. That was a freedom that he intended to enjoy.

Fenris dodged the shield charge easily, though his ducking the swing of her sword wasn't as easy or smooth. He skittered away from her, sword coming up in a guard just in time to block her next swing, the clang of metal on metal echoing in the courtyard.

He took a deep breath, calming himself, indulging in the scent of sweat, leather and steel- scents that were always familiar, always there, never strange for him.

They fought for what seemed like an Age to the elf- he attacked, she defended and counterattacked, he defended, and so on. He was being worn down, little by little, by her strategy, but he didn't mind. It was invigorating to be fighting once more with another living being, to strategize, to predict and to counter every move she made against him.

When at long last her shield sent his sword flying and he found the point of her blade against his throat, they had been fighting for a good half hour. He grinned up at her, sweating and panting, holding his hands up in surrender.

Her fierce façade faded, a smile replacing it as she helped him back to his feet, clapping him hard on the shoulder.

"Not bad. I think I like your fighting style without the glowing bits better."

"Thank you," he replied, fetching his sword. "As the lyrium is no longer there, then I won't fail in pleasing you in the future."

"What's this about lyrium?"

Fenris stiffened, slowly turning and looking towards one of the entries into the courtyard.

The Commander was there, leaning against the wall casually; how long she had been there, he couldn't tell, but her presence was, at the very least, unsettling.

Aveline gave a quick salute. "Commander."

The Commander nodded. "At ease, Aveline." She turned her sharp gaze back to Fenris. "She may be one of the newest Wardens here, but I hold Aveline in high regard. That you could hold your own against her for so long says something about your martial talent."

"Thank you, Commander," Fenris replied cautiously, sheathing his sword.

"Care to explain about the lyrium?"

Fenris glared at her, shocked and annoyed at her blunt questioning. "Actually, I would not. It was painful and in the past. It is best to leave it that way."

"Is it really?" the Commander asked, taking a few steps forward, eyes looking over his form. He forced himself to hold still, falling back into the habit of polite ignorance that he had often adopted in Teventer when in the presence of Magisters. She circled him, not unlike a predator, humming thoughtfully under her breath as she took in his scars. At least she wasn't touching him, he thought thankfully.

"Anders keeps mentioning that he needs to tend to you. Why?"

Odd, Fenris thought. If the mage truly worried, why didn't he just heal him while he slept? Unless he was being considerate again, not wanting to use magic on Fenris without his expressed consent.

That seemed quite likely.

"If he didn't tell you, why should I?" Fenris retorted in careful neutrality.

"Because he claimed healer patient confidentiality," she said. "If I get the story from you, then that's alright."

That was…logical. It would perhaps be considered underhanded in some circles, but logical nonetheless.

"Why would the esteemed Commander of the Grey be concerned with me?"

"Because the esteemed Commander of the Grey is not blind or stupid," she snapped. She walked back out in front of him, letting out a sigh. "Aveline, Donnic just got back with the others and is waiting for you in the dining hall. Fenris," she added, glancing back at him as she started to follow Aveline out. "If you are not busy later, I would request your presence in my office after you clean up. There are some things I need to discuss with you."

"Of course, Commander," Fenris nodded stiffly.

When he later arrived at her office, he was surprised to find a tray of tea and biscuits waiting.

"Help yourself," the Commander said, waving him into a seat in front of her desk. He did so, settling in and nibbling on a biscuit while he glanced at his surroundings.

Books, books, and more books were stuffed into shelves that covered most of the wall space in the Commander's office. Maps of Fereldan and Thedas were scattered on her desk and some were on the floor, possibly having been discarded on purpose. A single shelf of various potions and herbs were behind her chair and the only other thing in the room was a cabinet that was closed and locked.

"I think, perhaps," the Commander said, bringing Fenris' attention back to her. "That I might owe you…and Anders…an apology."

Fenris said nothing, nibbling on his snack.

She offered him a knowing smile. "I know that you two are together and I am sorry that I've been keeping your mage away, but his input on my project is vital."

"I'm sure," Fenris said dryly. He didn't trust her, or her apology, one bit.

She seemed to pick up on this, and offered him a quick shrug. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if the lyrium you mentioned was once your markings."

Fenris, again, said nothing.

She sighed. "I'm only asking because you are the second person I've come across that was an experiment with lyrium."

Despite himself, Fenris felt a prick of curiosity. "Indeed?" Another person had gone through the agony he had endured, and lived to tell the Commander about it?

"Yes," she nodded, frowning down at the marks on his hands. "She used to be a dwarf."

"Used to?"

Odd, very odd, he thought. Dwarves were notoriously resistant to magic, so much so that you never heard of a dwarven mage. That this dwarf had been experimented on and had survived contact with lyrium spoke volumes on the dwarf…and whatever foul magic had been used.

"She's a golem now. Apparently long ago the dwarves had an army of golems and you made them by pouring molten lyrium down someone's throat while they were next to the empty golem body. Somehow, the soul would be transferred to the golem."

Fenris stared, his biscuit having dropped from his fingers. "That's…that's unbelievable," he said quietly. And incrediably simple, he added silently. If it was one thing he knew about magic, it was that it could always be counted on to not be simple; there was always a catch, always a problem, always an exception to the rule.

"I wouldn't have believed it myself, except I read the papers on it and had an actual golem to talk to about it," she replied grimly. "Couldn't remember most of it at first, but she started remembering more in time."

"What does this have to do with me?" Fenris asked, already bristling at the expected outpouring of questions and demands from the witch before him.

She eyed him carefully before slowly speaking. He got the feeling that she was used to working with people who were easily agitated, but most of the time she just didn't care if she upset someone like Fenris. Or perhaps she was more used to working with wild animals instead of people.

"Messere Fenris, I won't pretend that your story doesn't fascinate me; it does, and it's more than just how you received and lost your markings. Anders refused to speak of your markings and anything of that nature, but he has admitted to the time he spent with you in Kirkwall. He holds you in very high esteem, despite your differing views on mages."

She stood, standing and starting to pace behind her desk. "You are a warrior, and a damn good one, from what Nathanial tells me. And seeing you fight and hold your own against Aveline just confirmed what he told me: 'A little rusty, a little stiff, still healing, but able to hold his own against another equally fine warrior.'"

Nathanial must have been the man who had been watching him so closely the last few weeks, Fenris thought. So he had been spying…just not for the reasons he had assumed.

The Commander continued. "The Wardens are stronger than ever, but we're always looking for new blood, new talent." She looked at him, eyes frank with interest. "I'd like to extend an invitation for you to join the Wardens"

His first inclination was to ask if he would get his own griffon if he joined them- he was rather fond of the idea of soaring through the air with his winged beast, dive bombing darkspawn and chasing after Anders on his. His second inclination was to stamp down firmly on the first, so he wouldn't embarrass himself. Instead, Fenris opened his mouth, to protest-

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "No, sleep on it, think about it. Take as much time as you need; whatever your answer, I will take it whenever you are ready to give it. We are not at war and there is no Blight, so there is no rush. I will not conscript you if you say no."

"Why?" he asked, standing with his fists clenched. "Why would you invite someone like me into your Order?"

"Because I'm not stupid or short sighted," the Commander shrugged. "Now, as to why you need tending by Anders…can you at least give me a rough idea as to why he, and only he, can treat you?"

He thought of those tender, loving hands that had treated him for what seemed for so long now, the easing of pain they brought and the pleasure they had wringed out of the elf in their more intimate moments. Fenris fought the blush that was threatening to take over his face. In a clipped tone, he quickly explained what he could.

"I have a long history of abuse under mages. He was there when I needed him most and he was incredibly patient with me. His magic does not hurt me like other healing magic and I trust him. I was…in very bad shape when he found me, and we have been doing exercises together to get my strength and flexibility back."

"So how did you go from healer and patient to lovers?"

Her blunt question was not unexpected and Fenris felt no reason to lie to her. "It just…grew from what we had. He, for whatever reason, had liked me since he first laid eyes on me, and under his…tender care, I've grown to…like him as well."

"You're not just going to fuck and dump him, are you?"

That question, however, brought a furious Fenris right to the edge of the Commander's desk, knuckles cracking and turning white as he gripped the wood, teeth bared in a snarl.

"I would never repay that man in that way! I have the utmost care and respect for him. If you are suggesting that I would simply use him like a whore-"

"Peace, Fenris," the Commander said quietly, hands held up pleadingly. "I've just never seen him this serious about someone and I think it would kill him if you used him and left."

Fenris stared at her, sudden clarity coming to mind. "That's why you've been keeping me away from him the last fortnight," he accused. "You thought-"

"I've been keeping him away because I've actually needed him, you pointy eared prat," she snapped, ignoring the fact that she too had pointy ears. She sighed, hand lifting up to rub at her temple. "I will admit that I've been worried about him. He may have abandoned the Wardens, but I sure as hell didn't abandon him. As Zev once put it, I'm very protective of my cubs…even if they're older than me."

"You are also incredibly harsh to them," Fenris snapped. "Sending him to Teventer, no matter the errand, was dangerous. Healer's do not last in that country."

That was a bit of a lie. Healer's did fine in Teventer- so long as they sided with the right magisters. With the rampant use of blood magic, dueling and the Qunari, the need for healers was very high. Anders, however, would never have made it. He was too good, too hard headed. Maker, if he set out with the same single-mindedness that he had displayed back in Kirkwall, Fenris had no doubt that the healer would have led a slave revolt- perhaps, if he was lucky, it would have even been successful.

"Hence his out of the way little cottage in the woods, and orders to keep a low, a very low profile" the Commander replied smoothly. "And you've known Anders long enough to know that he's not helpless."

"No," he thought, thinking of the large tiger form the mage had suddenly acquired. "No he's not."

The Commander offered him a surprisingly gentle smile. "Again, I'm sorry for being an ass. I'm also sorry that I will no doubt continue to be an ass- I'm here to command the Wardens, not win a congeniality contest. I will no longer keep Anders from you. However, please stay away from the public eye if you two decide to get intimate. I don't need all of my men distracted."

Fenris refused to respond to that demand, but she seemed to understand. "Go. Anders should be waiting for you at the barracks. I'll see you later, Fenris."

He found a note waiting for him in his assigned bunk.

Meet me in the courtyard after dark. I've missed you.

~A

Smiling, Fenris spent the rest of his day in the library, eyeing the titles of the tomes and discreetly dragging a few interesting ones down to peek at. He finally found one about griffons and the Grey Wardens that kept him entertained until dinner (Raining death from above on my enemies! Glorious!)

Once he had finished a simple dinner in the dining hall, always away from the others at the end of the table and once the other occupants had retired for the evening, Fenris slipped out into the courtyard.

It was dark, only the flickering torches giving off any light. He waited near one of the practice dummies, mulling over the events of the afternoon.

Fenris wasn't sure what to make of the Commander. She was a mage, had kept Anders so busy that he fell exhausted into bed late every night…but she had offered him a chance to join Anders in the Wardens. And, if what he had heard Anders say was true, joining the Wardens was for life.

The scent of tea and herbs enveloped him before Anders did, the mage pulling him back against his body in a gentle hug. Fenris leaned back, eyes closing as he enjoyed the simple gesture.

"Fenris," Anders whispered, his breath tickling the warrior's ears.

"Anders," Fenris greeted. "I have missed you as well."

"Come with me," Anders begged, tugging at the elf's hand. Fenris obliged the other man, following along after the mage.

Anders led him to the stables. Fenris eyed the horses who occupied the stalls warily, but other than a few curious looks and snorts, none of the animals made much noise.

"Come," Anders called to him, already up the ladder and in the loft.

Fenris followed up, blinking in surprise when he reached the top. "I assume magic had something to do with this."

"No, no! Well, okay just a little…"

Somehow the floor of the loft had been swept of straw, the bales pushed up to the slanted walls. What impressed Fenris, who had spent the night in many a barn, was the fact that the mage had somehow managed to smuggle out a large pile of blankets, bundled together to form a messy, yet comfy looking nest. It wasn't a proper bed, but with the privacy this place afforded and the fact that Anders was actually here, Fenris was more than happy with it. There was also a small pack, but the flap was closed, so Fenris could not see the contents.

Anders was watching him with a hopeful smile. "Well?"

Fenris looked from the mage, back to the nest of blankets before shrugging nonchalantly. "I expected better from a Warden, but I suppose it'll do."

"Better? Why you-"

Fenris laughed, ducking Anders' charge and easily staying out of the mage's reach. "Perhaps you'll let me apologize?" he asked innocently. He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, feeling devious that the mage's mock-angry look had immediately shifted to a look that spoke of need and hunger. He walked backwards, eyes locking with Anders' as he plopped down into the pile. He crooked a finger. "Come here."

Anders obeyed, shuffling over and looking down at the elf. Fenris flushed slightly under the look of…sweetness, he supposed it was. Anders was…grateful and happy to see this, and Fenris was happy to make Anders happy.

And yet...

"Anders," he said gently as the mage plopped onto the bed, shirt already off and getting tossed to the floor. "Let me hold you."

Up close, the mage looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes and his normally quick, deft fingers took twice as long as usual to undress himself. He was eager, of course, but the exhaustion was enough to put a firm damper on Fenris' eagerness. Wondering what the Commander had ordered Anders to do for the past fortnight, Fenris lay back, motioning the mage to him.

Anders curled up against him like a large cat, one arm wrapping around Fenris' waist while the curled up and around the elf's nape, the hand resting in his white hair.

"Sure you don't want to…?"

"We'll have plenty of time for that in the morning," Fenris murmured, gently pressing a kiss to Anders' cheek.

"Are you sure?" Anders yawned. "You don't want to take advantage of a willing, eager apostate?"

"I will," Fenris smirked, nuzzling and then resting against the mage's neck. "When you're not exhausted."

"I can still-"

"I believe it," Fenris soothed. "But do you really want me to feel guilty later? For taking advantage of you in your weakened state?"

"I'm not-!"

"Peace, carum," Fenris chuckled. "Unless you leave me, I will still be here come morning."

Anders wriggled against him, settling in for the time being. Fenris idly stroked the man's skin, simply enjoying touching the other.

"She came to me," Fenris said after a moment. "Your Commander."

He felt Anders stiffen. "What did she want?"

"She offered me a place in the Wardens."

Silence. Fenris detached from the mage, rolling onto his stomach and glancing warily at the other man's face.

Shockingly, Anders' face was…stony, blank. He locked gazes with Fenris, waiting. This wasn't exactly how he imagined the mage reacting- he had been hoping for more smiling than scowling.

Fenris gulped. "I…I was considering it."

"Why?"

Fenris considered the question for a moment, asking himself the same thing. Why was he considering that blasted woman's proposal? He didn't like her, didn't trust her and he was no hero from old legends. He couldn't be a Grey Warden.

Then he glanced back at Anders, who looked so warm and welcoming and real, even in the darkness of the loft.

"I…want to follow you," Fenris said quietly. "If I was a Warden, it would be easier, and expected, for me to follow you."

Anders sighed, rolling over and laying his torso across Fenris' belly. The warrior stiffened, but when the mage made no move to fully pin him, he relaxed.

"Fenris," he said softly. "Just because you join the Wardens doesn't garuantee that we will even be stationed in the same hold." The mage kissed the warrior's belly gently, earning a soft huff from the elf.

"It is ultimately your decision and that whichever one you make, I'll support you. But, I'll only do this once." He looked up at the elf, eyes surprisingly wide and vulnerable. "Fenris. Please don't follow me into the Wardens. I'm asking- no, I'm begging you to not join. It is not an easy life, an easy fate, and I wouldn't wish it for you. Please, Fenris."

"I have not had an easy life," Fenris pointed out. "I would not dare hope or dream of one at this point."

"You don't understand," Anders whispered. "I can't tell you everything, but please, don't do this. I…I couldn't stand it if I lost you."

"There is a trial, I assume?"

Anders bit his lip. "It's not what you think it is, but yes. Fenris," he begged, hands gripping the elf's shoulders tightly. "Please. Please reconsider. Don't do this."

It was the pure, utter desperation and fear in the mage's eyes that gave Fenris pause at long last. "You truly fear for me," he realized, his wavering thoughts hardening into cold fact as Anders nodded. "You…you worry it will kill me."

"Yes."

"I'm getting stronger."

"Fenris, the Joining is…complicated. I survived my Joining, but a woman who was a bloody good and strong warrior died in hers. The Commander was the only survivor of her Joining. The Joining is dangerous, being a Warden is dangerous, this life is not worth it to you!"

Fenris smiled softly, hand trailing softly over the mage's cheek. "I am not worthy of you, my healer, and yet here you are away from your comrades, spending the night in a barn with only myself and the horses below us for company." He kissed Anders chastely on the lips, drawing away before the mage could deepen it.

"Fenris," Anders said, beseechingly once more. "Please, don't do this."

Fenris merely shook his head, hand resting gently on the mage's scratchy cheek, trying to reassure him.

"I will think on what you've told me. I have plenty of time to think on it; the Commander said there was no rush, and I intend to think carefully over this. Now, let's get some sleep. You have had too little the past few weeks."

"Sorry 'bout that," Anders mumbled, tiredness slurring his voice now. "Had to go do…stuff…"

Fenris didn't reply, afraid to pry the man for more information. He had the mage in his arms now, so he would count his blessings while he could. It didn't take long for both of them to drift off, Anders clinging to Fenris while Fenris kept a firm grip on the other man.

AN: Sorry for the delay in updates- school, life, ugh. I have two more weeks of school left, including finals. So I can't promise when the next update will be, but hopefully you will be patient with me.

Thank you, all of you, for your encouragement. This story wouldn't be possible without you. :)