this one is "Anders and Fenris Resolve All Their Differences in an Elevator" which was from one of my own damn prompt list asks. Sorry. The next bit was Anders having a panic attack and writing it kinda gave me a panic attack and then I stopped forever. But I think this could be fun?
“You cannot seriously say that!”
“I can, and I do.” says Fenris, “Power corrupts.”
He has, in fact, said that before. He says it often, especially to Anders, and then they have this argument. It’s a very familiar argument, with predictable beats and never-changing lines. Anders could probably do both sides of it by now, could probably argue about this with Fenris in his sleep — actually, sometimes, he does.
It always starts the same way. Anders mentions something terrible going on, and Fenris overhears. Fenris bristles, Anders bristles at his bristling, and it all takes its usual course from there.
Lately, a lot of terrible things have been going on in Kirkwall, and they’ve been having this argument a lot. There was the young girl who used to frequent his clinic with suspiciously magical looking burns on her hands who doesn’t visit anymore, or any number of the tales of widespread corruption in the city’s Templar order that he hears about from the ones who frequent his clinic on their lyrium withdrawals.
Recently the politicking of the Ferelden circle has been making waves again, and Anders mentioned one of the news articles he saw about it to Hawke, and one to Varric, and both times Fenris had to sigh and mutter something under his breath, and then here they were. Today it came up because of an advertisement Anders saw on the subway on the way that used the word magical as a superlative, so there’s a slight chance that Fenris might actually be right when he says that Anders could find a way bring this topic out of anything, but it doesn’t really matter, because it all boils down to the same thing. And until that thing is rectified in a very big, real, world-changing kind of way, no, Anders is not going to shut up about it. Because he lives with Justice in his bones, and the thing that it boils down to is the very encapsulation of Justice; it’s freedom.
Fenris is free. He is very recently and very proudly free. He has defended his freedom in very bloody, very violent declarations of independence. Anders has seen him do it. Anders has helped. Anders saved his fucking life doing it and he would do it again, it doesn’t matter, freedom is freedom. But Fenris should fucking get it.
Instead, “If mages are given freedom, they will become Magisters.” he says, every time.
They might circle those two points for a while, power and freedom and who deserves what, but the next beat is always one of either of them giving up. Either Fenris scowls and turns him a cold shoulder, or Anders calls him impossible or some other insult and stomps off.
This time they are both on their way to Hawke’s, each carrying a bottle of the same damn wine. The cheap stuff, Hawke’s favourite. Anders knows it is because he cares about his friends, and Fenris knows because apparently, despite all other evidence in his blighted politics — if you could call it that — he does have a heart. (So he should fucking get it —)
This time, the doors of the elevators taking them up to Hawke’s penthouse shut, and then the elevator starts up, and then it goes clank. Then clunk. Then it lurches, shudders, lurches again, and stops.