#glowing-blue-feathermage

[lesetoilesfous]

Ok so now the CORRECT prompt for @glowing-blue-feathermage: “It’s hard to write about being happy because the older I get, I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject”

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: fluff, post-canon, old men in love

Rating: Mature

"Fen?"

Fenris' answer is a rumble that Anders feels in his chest, where he's lying against his husband in their bed, fiddling with his sewing. Anders leans back into him anyway, feeling the gentle give of a belly that had at last developed with old age and safety, despite every year Fenris had spent starving. Fenris' answer is to run his old, wrinkles fingers slowly through Anders' long, grey hair.

"Do you think we won?"

Fenris chuckles, lifting his book a little to look down past his chin at Anders, who's craning his head back to look up at him. Next to their bed are several haphazard stacks of books like mushrooms growing around the room: mixed buffets of Tethras romances and dense political tracts from Orlais to Seheron. The dwarven spectacles Fenris is wearing glitter in the candlelight of the room, magnifying his green eyes. "What brought this on?"

Anders shrugs, and ignores the twinge of an old scar as he does so. Instead he moves his legs against the bedsheets, enjoying the worn old cotton of them, before pressing himself against Fenris' warm body. In his hands, the cross-stitch he's working on is half-finished but already becoming clear enough: the Grey Warden emblem, realised in thread. He's planning to hang it in their kitchen.

"I should be dead." Fenris' fingers still in Anders' hair. "I mean, both of us should be, probably." Fenris makes a wry, sarcastic grunt in response to that. Anders grins at him. "I don't know, I just always sort of expected our endings to be more...dramatic. Going out in a tragic blaze of glory. Something that would make sense for the stories."

Fenris puts down his book, sitting up a little. Anders follows him, and the lavender-strewn hay of their mattress exhales a little sigh of perfume. Fenris looks at Anders thoughtfully. He can hardly not, these days, his warm brown skin wrinkled around his eyes, mouth and forehead in a way that lends a certain air of dignity beneath his long hair, as white as it had ever been in all the time Anders had known him.

Fenris reaches out a hand, and Anders meets it, letting his husband wind their fingers together. Their rings press in the space between their skin, but Fenris presses them tightly, until Anders can feel the touch of his wedding band in his bones.

"I think that it is in the interest of villains to tell young heroes who hope for change that the most they will ever achieve is self-destruction, and that long, peaceful lives with the one they love is the reserve only of the evil and corrupt."

Anders' mouth twitches, "I'd hardly characterise our lives as peaceful, love."

Fenris inclines his head, and lifts Anders' hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the backs of his fingers. "But they have been long. And that, I think, is enough."

[celemee]

Welcome to DADWC!! How about from the angsty prompt list, "Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?" for Hawke/Anders. ☺️

Hello, and thank you so much! <3

For this I wanted to re-imagine Viscount Hawke... I hope you don't mind!

@dadrunkwriting

-----

The first mistake people make when recounting the tale of Kirkwall's rebellion is assume Garrett let Anders walk away, no questions asked and no plans made. That it was an act of mercy from Garrett's part; that he was too fond of Anders to punish him.

No, that's not quite right.

What do you do when the love of your life finds himself in a situation where there's no turning back? Where there are no words that could soothe a city enraged?

Garrett glances over his shoulder, pulling back the hood to make sure his walk is solitary. Nothing sticks out in the shadows; no wind rustles the leaves.

Bethany sleeps in her room, blissfully unaware of her brother's nightly whereabouts, and the dockworkers don't recognise their Viscount when he's masked this way.

The air is chilly against his face as he makes his way to the cabin near Sundermount. Its windows glow a welcoming orange light, disturbed only by a shadow as the resident's wait comes to an end.

"Love," comes the single-worded greeting. Before the door closes behind Garrett, he's swept into an embrace that speaks of a lifetime apart — even if it's been only a few days.

The second mistake people make is assume Garrett and Anders are a thing of the past, their love poisoned and withered until the end of time.

But Anders's eyes shine with affection, his voice whispers in gentle tones — and Garrett's arms close around him securely, protecting what's most precious to him.

This... this is what they had to do. Bethany needed Garrett, and so did Anders — but not even Garrett's influence could keep him safe in the city.

"It won't be long now. Bethany is planning on sailing away with Isabela," Garrett whispers into Anders's ear. It's a difficult thought; a life of adventure and danger... but he trusts Isabela.

Anders pulls back from the embrace just enough to meet his eyes; "And where will we go?"

"Anywhere you want to, love. I will keep my promise."

Garrett doesn't care for the office he holds, nor the sovereigns it brings. It's all a means to an end — and he wants to his (hopefully happy) ending with Anders at his side.

Hours pass in warmth, skin finds skin, and smiles are met with smiles. All too soon, the pitch-black of the horizon shifts to a decidedly blue hue.

Anders grabs his wrist as Garrett sits up on the bed. "Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?"

Garrett shouldn't; they have the rest of forever if they wait a little longer. But the candlelight dances in Anders's eyes, invitingly, and Garrett can't find it in himself to refuse. He settles back in the warm sheets, smiling when Anders squirms against his tickly beard.

Just a little longer, and they can be as selfish as they want.

[lesetoilesfous]

Akajsjjdhajja you're taking prompts!!!

I'm here with Fenders (shocked?) and the Anders themed list, Florence and the Machines #1. Happiness is uneventful. I couldn't post the whole quote on mobile, I'm too incompetent lmao.

Happy DADWc!

Hehe thank you so much!!!!!!! Ok so I MESSED UP and started writing the wrong thing, you're gonna get another one in just a sec.

The quote I thought you meant is "And I never wanted anything from you, except everything you had, and what was left after that too"

(I realise now you meant another one. Two cakes?)

If you want me to write a Dragon Age fic for you, send me a prompt!

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: post-boom, angst, figuring stuff out

Rating: Mature

It's been three days. Fenris has been...almost entirely silent, speaking only to direct Anders - his bad knee, blind grief and uncomfortably silent Justice - away from some unforeseen trip hazard, or onto more stable footing as they make their way up into the Vimmarks. Anders doesn't know how much more silence he can take. (It's been a month by now. Surely they can't mean to keep him longer still?) Anders sets camp, taking time to set what wards he can think of: standard tripwires and anti-magic spells. Fenris does his own patrolling, though he doesn't say as much, muttering something about firewood. By the time Anders is done with his spellcraft, a small fire is already crackling in a little ring of soil-covered pebbles, snapping at the darkening sky.

Fenris gets up when Anders approaches, moving to his bedroll. Anders' voices gets caught in his throat, but he is not able to stop his hand from reaching to bridge the darkness between him and his one-time lover.

Fenris stops, and his white hair and lyrium are almost luminescent in the twilight. For a long, long moment silence stretches between them - filled only the sound of the mountains at night. The howling, mournful wind. A lone owl setting out in search of her prey. The trees, sighing their aches to the sky.

"What is it?" Fenris isn't looking at him. Hasn't done since -

Anders' voice is still trapped in his throat. His fingers curl, aching a little over where they were broken once (more than once, a long time ago). He shakes his head, looks down at his feet. "No, sorry, it's nothing."

Fenris lets out a sigh, explosive in the quiet, and steps closer. Anders watches his bare feet tread through the grass and scree, always amazed at how quietly he manages to move - even up here, where the ground crunches its discomfort at every footstep.

"Is something wrong, mage?"

"You used to call me Anders." He speaks without thinking, and regrets it when he does, watching a muscle in the corn of Fenris jaw twitch as he presses his lips tightly shut and slowly uncurls his gauntleted fingers at his sides. Anders' mouth as he breathes is full of the taste of woodsmoke.

Fenris shakes his head, and there's half an angry smile on his face when he lifts his eyes to meet Anders' gaze for the first time in - Maker, how long has it been?

Fenris' eyes are brilliant as emeralds in the dark, and they glitter with a tired kind of humour. "What do you want of me, m-," He stops, sighs, bares his teeth. "Anders"

"I- nothing." It's so cold.

Fenris looks away from him, down toward the tree covered slopes, shrouded in evergreens like a skirt billowing in ripples around the mountains. "I do not know what else I can give you." When he speaks, Fenris does so quietly.

"I never -"

"You did!" Fenris' voice echoes off the mountain slopes, and his chest heaves with the speed of his breath. Anders cringes, and Fenris leans away from him like an archer's bow releasing. "You never stopped. You never stopped asking for everything, from all of us, until finally you asked so much that -" Fenris stops, bites off the end of the sentence, and turns away from Anders entirely. "We both need sleep."

He walks away before Anders can reply. In Anders' mind, Justice's silence is one long howl of grief.