The theme could be a side of Anders to explore, or something that has been inflicted/gifted to him by someone else in his life.
@teamblueandangry This one’s short and sweet. Anders likes to be touched, though he knows that Fenris does not. So he tries to be content with what Hayden gives him even though it’s not nearly enough... until one day Fenris surprises him and the two come to an understanding.
It almost feels wrong to want more of what they give him.
Hayden would gladly do so and wouldn’t even think of offering anything else than a few more moments of their time should he but bat an eyelash their way. Anders could not seem to ask more from Fenris than the brooding elf was willing to give however, though that didn’t mean he never wanted to.
Sometimes in the evenings Hayden would get caught up in business with the other nobles and it would be just Anders and Fenris for a little while. Usually they would spend time in the library reading their separate books, or they would head down to the cellars Anders had repurposed into an alchemy lab and Fenris would curl up on one of the blanket draped benches while Anders brewed and poured over scrolls and scrolls of notes on his experiments.
Rarely did they ever share those evenings with an activity that was something other than retiring from dinner early to indulge in some of their more unusual kinks that Hayden was uncomfortable participating in. Still, Anders hungered for Fenris’ touch in the same way that he hungered for Hayden’s.
Was it possible to be envious of one’s own self?
Anders’ fingers drummed idly on the table as he ate his stew one evening, chewing slowly on the meat while lost in thought. That is until a hand came to rest on top of his, ceasing the movements of his fingers.
“Anders,” Fenris rumbled, slightly exasperated. “Stop tapping. It grates on the nerves a little.” Anders flushed and ducked his head, fingers still twitching.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into his food. “I just... can’t seem to stop sometimes.”
Fenris was quiet for a moment before he moved from the table, the movement causing Anders to look up to see what he was doing. Fenris merely slid his own food over and came around to sit next to Anders so that they sat shoulder to shoulder. The hint of warmth that radiated off of the elf seemed to ease Anders’ excess energy enough for him to relax, and his body sort canted to one side reflexively, pressing up against Fenris.
Fenris went still at this, and Anders pulled back slightly.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...”
He tilted his head to see Fenris’ expression, though that was as unreadable as ever. Fenris merely shook his head slightly and huffed. “It is... alright. I am merely... unused to such contact.”
Anders raised an eyebrow as he cautiously went back to his eating.
“I knew you were averse to touch before, but at night you don’t seem to have problems cuddling.”
Fenris shrugged. “The two things are... entirely different, somehow. And I try not to let myself become the one in the middle. I prefer the outside.” Anders nodded thoughtfully after swallowing another bite. “Makes sense.” He glanced again between them and frowned at the elf, concerned.
“Yes, Anders. I’m fine. Go back to your eating and try to tap the table a little less, please. Thank you.” After that was said, Fenris returned to his own meal and left Anders to his food and his thoughts.
The urge to continue tapping returned a little while later while they were indulging in dessert and Anders, remembering Fenris’ request, reached over to take Fenris’ hand instead. Fenris still tensed when Anders’ hand grasped his, but he relaxed when Anders’ thumb began to idly rub against the backs of his fingers in a slow, repetitive motion.
The motion stopped when Anders realized what he’d done, and before he could pull away again, Fenris’ grunted and muttered in a low growl, “Don’t. This is... alright. Please... don’t stop.”
Anders paused for a moment more before continuing as he replied in a quiet whisper, “Thank you, Fenris.”
A gentle pressure to his shoulder and another grunt served as his answer.
Perhaps he didn’t need to ask more from Fenris.
Fenris was just as willing as Hayden to give Anders what he needed it seemed, he just spoke a different sort of language than most. His was a language of small gestures and soft touches, given only voluntarily yet not as sparingly as Anders had once thought.
The theme could be a side of Anders to explore, or something that has been inflicted/gifted to him by someone else in his life.
@teamblueandangry A short piece about the place of wrath and forgiveness in the life of our favorite feathermage.
As a boy, Anders thought he’d known wrath.
His father would often tell him to be careful near the scythe that was used for harvest, and then one day he cut himself touching the blade, blood running down his arm with pain shooting through him. His mother had patched him up quickly, but when his father found out, Anders had been subjected to a scolding so fierce that he never disobeyed his father like that again.
Until the day he was helping to care for the horses, and a small rattlesnake spooked their draft mare, nearly kicking him in the face as he was cleaning her hooves... and he burnt down the barn in an unexpected display of accidental magic. He never forgot the look on his father’s face as the door to his room was shut and locked while the Templars were called...
“–the boy is a sin! A punishment upon our house! He’s going to the Circle!”
All the color in the world seemed to drain away as he sobbed uselessly, curled up on his bed and clutching one of his mother’s hand-stitched pillows. He was still clutching it as he was carted away, his sobs having reduced to a silence that he would keep for so long that the Templars eventually stopped asking for his name when they’d forgotten it, and he’d ceased to be a boy anymore.
Now he was a young man in the Circle, and his name was Anders.
As a young man in the Circle, he certainly knew wrath.
At first, knew a little of it in the sores on his hands as his skin was rubbed raw from the thousand dishes he’d had to scrub, from all the floors of the tower he’d had to mop, and from every shelf in the library or the storerooms as their dust settled over him like a semi-permanent film that lasted for days and made it hard for him to breathe.
Those were just the little things, though. Later he would most certainly know it in the sting of the whip on his back as he was tied to a table and lashed until Greagoir said stop, though in the later years of his time in the Circle the Knight Commander was not always present. Sometimes the Templars liked to have a little fun with him. Sometimes they’d whip him while they used him, and only if they were in a good mood would they use lubricant.
It was a wrath that left him twitching and bleeding and gasping in pain, magebane coursing through him so that he couldn’t heal the wounds.
So Anders learned that he could handle wrath. Wrath he could survive if he but bit his lip and held on for long enough.
Neglect, however, left him in the cold and the dark for a year, and during that year he grew to long for the touch of wrath. Wrath meant he was still alive; that he was still him and not an echo of himself that might’ve passed through the veil and into the Fade while no one was looking. Later he would look back on that time and wonder if a part of him hadn’t done that anyway.
In a way wrath was both his greatest enemy and staunchest ally during those dark days. He had been put in the dark because of wrath, and it was through wrath’s pain that he survived.
When the time came to run for the last time, he was no longer a young man.
As an adult, Anders felt as though he hadn’t stopped running since. His time with the Wardens had been brief; a short reprieve from state of constant fear and fury that had been his existence since escaping solitary. Well, really he’d been that since the day his father had sent him to the Circle if he was being honest with himself, but he was so rarely that these days, even with a Spirit of Justice living in his head.
Justice might abhor the practice of lying, but he couldn’t stop Anders from lying to himself or keep him from his own delusions. Anders was perfectly happy keeping those to himself, especially after the day Hayden Hawke had first stumbled into his clinic.
His first impression of Hayden was of how kind they were, how understanding. He couldn’t be sure, but when he admitted Justice’s existence to them after the Chantry disaster, he thought that their quick forgiveness might actually be as honest as their eyes were bright, and their eyes were very bright indeed.
Anders couldn’t believe that someone could forgive him so quickly, so used to the touch of wrath was he. And then Hayden reached out and took his hands into theirs, as though sensing his disbelief. Anders felt his heart flutter like a blighted butterfly even while still in the throes of grief, and that was when he began to fall headfirst in love with the timid, shy-smiling healer.
That didn’t mean he didn’t still feel wrath’s touch, because of course even Hayden could not keep Anders’ first meeting with Fenris from being any less explosive than it ended up being. Once the elf had learned what Anders was (first that he was a mage and secondly that he was possessed), Anders was certain that he would be forever a thing to hate in Fenris’ eyes, just as he had been in his father’s.
He tried pushing them both away so that he wouldn’t have to feel Hayden’s forgiveness and Fenris’ wrath all at once. The wrath he might deserve to bear, but forgiveness? What had he done to deserve that? And now that he’d felt it again after so long after having gone without it, he almost didn’t want to let it go even though he felt guilty for wanting more.
He couldn’t fathom how it was possible to exist in a state of being the object of one person’s overflowing forgiveness and another’s unfiltered hate. Anders couldn’t see things changing for him with either of them, so he preferred to let them have each other while he kept to his work and his patients.
Fate had a funny way of changing things though, especially when Hayden’s mother died at the hands of a sadistic blood mage and brought the three of them together in their grief over a woman who hadn’t always understood them, but had always been kind to them. Suddenly Anders had not one but two lovers who didn’t hate his every eccentricity and yet found them endearing instead while they forgave the ones that weren’t.
Sometimes he’d wake them at night with his nightmares of the Circle, and they wouldn’t say a word. Hayden would merely wriggle out from between them and move to burrow at his back while Fenris let him cling as much as he needed until a more peaceful sleep came back to him.
Sometimes during sex a stray touch or caress or a finger that needed just a smidge more lubricant would set him whimpering and instantly Hayden’s hands would be at his sides, gently rubbing and soothing while Fenris’ voice rumbled in his ears:
“You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me and Hayden. You’re safe.”
Safe, and so often forgiven. Even when later, the air itself was on fire and the city was in ruins, they were at his side, holding his hands in a way that said, We never want to let you go. You are ours, and you are forgiven. Hayden he could understand because their forgiveness seemingly knew no bounds, but Fenris...
Fenris’ forgiveness felt like coming home.
He closed his eyes, and for a moment he was a boy again. A boy without magic and parents who loved him. When he opened them again, it wasn’t to the crushing weight of despair like it had so often been since the day his magic manifested, but to the lightness of hope in his heart.
He was no longer a boy who had never felt wrath, and he never would be again.
However he could be a man who knew wrath and forgiveness in equal measure, and he could accept their place in his life going forward, wherever forward would take him.
The theme could be a side of Anders to explore, or something that has been inflicted/gifted to him by someone else in his life.
@teamblueandangry In which there is some crying about pastries, and the benefits of having sex on rugs with unfortunate patterns is hinted at.
Anders saw the pastries in the window as he walked arm in arm with Hayden through Hightown one evening. His feet slowed as he caught sight of the daintily placed powdered sugar on top and he remembered a once beloved pair of hands picking some up and throwing it playfully in his face.
“Anders?” Hayden’s voice cut in through the bright gloom of his musings, “Is something wrong, Anders?”
He shook himself and suddenly realized that he’d stopped them right in front of the display. He opened his mouth, quite ready to tell Hayden that it was nothing, that he was absolutely fine… until he felt the wetness of a few tears roll down his cheeks. He sniffled a bit and furiously wiped at his eyes to try to blot away his shame.
“What’s wrong?” Hayden’s voice came again, low and quiet. Soothing.
Anders felt Hayden lean against him a little more heavily, their grasp on his arm briefly tightening to a gentle squeeze.
“Those madeleines are important, aren’t they?”
Ah, Hayden. Such a kind, clever soul they were.
Anders sighed deeply, and once he felt that he’d sufficiently blotted up his tears, he nodded. “Karl used to make them,” he replied, clearing his throat after hearing his voice croak from tears he was still trying to hold back.
“He’d make them, in the Circle. We didn’t have them often because we were, you know, filthy mages who didn’t deserve anything good in life but… the kitchen staff liked him and sometimes… sometimes…” Anders sighed again, running a hand through his hair and staring forlornly at the pastries. “I don’t know why this bother me so much. It’s been… four, five years now?”
“You loved him,” Hayden reminded him. “You lost him. I know how hard that is, to lose someone you love. I still miss my father deeply when the leaves start turning just before Harvestmere, and Bethany… well, I suspect that she was Mother’s favorite child, and she speaks of her often, still. I often wonder if there really was more that I could do, and thinking back on my memories of her…”
They trailed off, shrugging. “Would it help if we purchased some?”
Anders stared at Hayden, stunned, before turning back to look at the elegantly arranged pastries in the window.
“I don’t know if they’ll soothe the ache in my heart,” he said at last, biting his lip a little and licking it, “but sharing some with you would be lovely, I think.” Hayden hummed in agreement, tugging him along gently towards the shop’s door. “Let’s not tarry then,” they chirped brightly, “it’ll be dark soon.”
They walked into the shop and Hayden bought an assortment of two dozen decorated madelienes, even going so far as to feign an interest in taking up baking to ask for a beginner’s recipe.
Anders’ heart felt overfull as it swelled with love for the other mage.
They took the pastries home and waited to eat them until after enjoying the dinner Orana had prepared, and Anders surprised himself when he greedily consumed nine of them in one sitting. Hayden had actually been the one to draw attention to it by pulling the boxes away with a grin and teasingly insisting he not make himself sick by eating all of them at once.
“Do you feel a little better?” Hayden asked as they dressed for bed that evening. Anders paused to search his heart, sighing contentedly.
“A little,” he answered honestly. “Though I’m uncertain how much of it stems from my actually feeling full for once.” A chuckle escaped him as he slipped into one of the pairs of silk sleepwear that Hayden had had altered just for him. “It’s such a rare occurrence.”
Hayden hummed noncommittally, climbing into the bed and burrowing under the covers. “It makes me feel so content to know that you feel content.” They flashed a smile up at Anders when he slid under the covers to join them. “So, what are we reading tonight, darling?”
“More from that rare book about spirit healing that you picked up at the Black Emporium–Maker, this was such a good find.”
“Sounds lovely,” Hayden murmured, curling up against his chest, arranging themselves so that they could comfortably follow along as Anders read aloud. Anders reached over and pulled the book from the nearby nightstand and began to read, relishing in the twin feelings of contentment that stemmed from both himself and Justice at the thought of the great care that Hayden took to keep them safe and fed.
He read until Hayden’s yawns became too frequent, and then he marked their place before setting the book back in it’s place on the nightstand. Anders fell asleep, spooned against Hayden’s back, his arms gently holding tight to the other mage.
A little over a year later, Anders would be walking down a familiar Hightown thoroughfare on a cool autumn evening with Hayden on one side and Fenris on the other. He paused again, catching sight of the pastries arranged in the window of a shop they had been to many times before, and his companions took notice when he did so.
Hayden, who looked a little less distraught than they had in weeks prior though still in the midst of recovering from the horrific death of their mother, frowned at him curiously. “Anders?” They asked again, “Is something wrong?”
Anders shook his head.
“Nothing more than usual,” he answered, jerking his head towards the shop window. “I just saw those pastries and thought to buy a few for you. I know you’re very fond of the savory buns they sometimes sell. Would you like to take a look and see if they still have any in stock?”
Hayden blinked at him, their stunned expression likely mirroring whatever had been on his face the first time Hayden had offered to purchase two dozen madeleines for him. Anders could even see the beginnings of tears forming at the edges of their eyes and he began to fuss a little, wiping them away.
“Oh, don’t cry, it’s alright… have I said something wrong?”
Hayden sniffled, smiling as they shook their head. “No, no, I’m alright. It’s just… I… I would very much like to see if they still have some, yes.”
They sighed, taking one of Anders’ hands in one of their own. “They might not ease the ache in my heart, but a warm dessert after one of Orana’s meals will certainly be enough to fill my stomach.” Hayden giggled, and Fenris frowned, not understanding the reference.
“Am I missing something?” he asked curiously, but Anders just waved the question away. “I’ll tell you later. For now though… would you like something? Some of those apple tarts, perhaps?”
Fenris flushed and Anders couldn’t keep the grin from his face at the sight. The elf really was quite adorable when embarrassed, though Anders knew he would never admit it. “You want to… to buy something for me?” Anders nodded, reaching to gently grasp one of Fenris’ hands. He wasn’t wearing his gauntlets today; a rarity for the elf. Anders was glad for it however, as it helped him emphasize his next words all the better.
“Everyone should be able to enjoy a sweet treat or two every once in awhile,” he said seriously. “And while I don’t recommend trying to drown your pain with them, sharing such things with the people you care about can be just as fulfilling as the treats themselves.” He smiled, squeezed Fenris’ hand, and was rewarded when the elf gasped and flushed a few shades deeper.
“I… very well. If you insist.”
Anders’ smile widened and he led his two lovers into the shop. He wasn’t able to buy two dozen pastries like that first time, but when they took their treats home and shared them with one another while cuddling on the library sofa after dinner, the quantity of the treats hardly mattered.
“I think I see the appeal of this exchange,” Fenris mumbled, his words muffled by one of the sweet buns filled with sausage and cheese that Hayden had offered him. “This is… nice. I feel… warm. Full. Content.”
“And not just with food,” Hayden added, smiling shyly, biting gingerly into a chocolate dipped madeleine. “Thank you for this, Anders.”
Anders ducked his head, feeling his own cheeks flush with a heat that did not come from the fire in front of them. He attempted to cover up the motion by taking a few nibbles from the apple tart he held perched above his fingers, though from Fenris’ resulting grin he suspected he had not been successful.
“Well, I’m glad you liked them. You’ve both been helping me take care of the clinic lately, and I just… wanted to take care of you in return.”
The last bit he tried to mumble unsuccessfully into his tart, but he only succeeded in getting apple jam on the tip of his nose instead, causing Hayden to nearly fall apart with laughter and Fenris to pull him close so that he could lick the jam right off.
Anders shifted a little as a suddenly thrill of arousal pulsed down his spine.
“Now, now,” he chuffed, “that’s enough of that. I’m trying to eat here.”
Fenris snorted. “It looked more like you were trying to literally inhale your food instead of eating it.” The elf chuckled, and Anders couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him at the sound of Fenris’ sinfully sultry voice.
“Fenris,” Hayden scolded playfully, “he’s right. That’s enough of that. If you really want to involve… our treats in another sort of treat, we should probably move to somewhere or something we don’t mind staining if we make a mess. We already make things difficult enough for Orana as it is with our sheets, we don’t need to add this sofa to the list… and besides, I’d personally not like to stain this sofa either.”
They grinned, and Anders felt gooseflesh raise all along his arms at the sight of the very indulgent, very predatory once-over they were giving him.
“You know,” he began, pausing to clear his voice after he’d squeaked a little under their deeply arousing stares, “there’s a perfectly good rug right here in front of the fire… and it’s not even a very pretty one.”
Fenris hummed, polishing off his sweet bun before pressing close against Anders’ back to press his lips against the flesh at the nape of his neck.
“Mmm… sounds like it’s quite replaceable then.”
“It is definitely replaceable,” Hayden grumbled. “It was a gift from one of the Hightown noblewomen at that last soiree we had to attend… you know, the very Orleisian one who was obsessed with all things cow printed?”
The three of them stared at the rug, which was not terrible in construction but definitely a little out of place with its… interesting color scheme and patterning.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy helping you get rid of that,” Anders snorted.
Yes, sometimes being a little self-indulgent in the name of charity wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. Especially if it got rid of terrible rugs and heartache in equal measure.
The theme could be a side of Anders to explore, or something that has been inflicted/gifted to him by someone else in his life.
@teamblueandangry In which there is much cuddling and Anders learns to sit back and catnip for an evening.
As the rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon of the rooftops outside their bedroom window, Anders stirred awake.
Today was one of the rare times that he had ended up in the middle, sandwiched between Hayden, who was in his arms and snoring very softly in the most adorable fashion, and Fenris who was at his back, face buried in his hair as his arms were curled up and pressed against Anders’ back.
He loved this feeling. It was so decadent, so sinful...
The tight knot of feelings in his chest that was Justice made itself known by pressing insistently against the boundaries of their connection. Impatience made his legs ache and a pressure form against his sinuses. Anders groaned quietly, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillows in his discomfort.
Anders knew Justice wasn’t trying to hurt him on purpose; rather, the spirit just wanted him to get up and start the day now that he was awake, however...
“Justice, stop that. You let Anders sleep a little while longer, okay?”
Anders lifted his head slightly to glance down at the sleeping form of Hayden, whose voice he’d heard just now. The younger mage still breathed deeply in his arms, and he was loathe to disturb them.
Then Hayden’s lips pursed, and Anders stilled as Hayden, eyes still closed, continued speaking.
“We’ll come help out with the clinic today and run the newest copy of our letters by Varric on the way home. Is that understood?”
Anders sensed that the knot of feelings that was Justice paused at Hayden’s words until, a little guiltily, it retreated from the forefront of Anders’ consciousness. Hayden snuggled closer and murmured into the crook of his in an even quieter whisper, “Go back to sleep Anders.” Though muffled and heavily slurred with the weight of sleep on their tongue, Hayden’s words brokered no argument.
Against his back, Fenris burrowed closer, further sandwiching him in between his two lovers. Anders sighed deeply, giving in to the call of the Fade, and he relished in a few more hours of sleep until the rays of the sun finally made their way into the little haven that was Hayden’s four-poster sanctuary.
After dropping the revisions to his latest writing project by Varric’s desk in the evening, Anders returned home with Fenris and Hayden to begin immediately pouring over his alchemy set. His lovers had decided to practice sparring in the small courtyard garden, and though Anders longed to go with them, he knew Justice would be nagging at him about sloth if he ignored his brewing.
Years ago before he had even gone down into the Deep Roads with Hayden he’d come up with the idea of a nutrient potion that could help the refugees supplement what little they could afford to buy in the way of food.
He was close now, he thought, but he often hit walls in his research that made it difficult to keep at it. Luckily, he had Justice to pester him about it, so there he sat, waiting for his latest batch of potion to finish brewing while he read from a book that sat in his lap and his right leg tapped away furiously against the stool he was perched on.
Distantly he registered the sound of footsteps approaching his workstation, but he didn’t look up until there was a slight rapping against the wood of the open door. He expected Hayden to be down here looking for him, but instead he was greeted to the sight of Fenris standing in the doorway looking slightly small and awkward. Anders frowned. It was very unlike Fenris to be timid around him.
“Is it time for dinner?” he asked, electing not to comment on Fenris’ unusual entrance. “Did Hayden send you to fetch me?”
Fenris seemed to finally gather his bearings and stepped into the room, eyes scanning the various ingredients and instruments he had strewn about in a strange combination of organized chaos.
“No, I was... merely curious as to why you decided not to spar with us this evening. Though I do believe we will be having dinner soon and Hayden said they’d be down to fetch us when it was ready.” Anders set aside his book but was unable to completely stop the tapping of his foot even while focused on his conversation with Fenris.
“I’m trying to create a nutrient potion for the people of Darktown. Or, well, for Lowtown and the Alienage as well I suppose, though it started out as just for the people of Darktown. I’ve been working on it for years.” Anders paused to think, glancing up in a particular direction as he tried to remember. “ I’ve probably been working on it since... since before I went into the Deep Roads with Hayden on that disastrous expedition.”
Fenris blinked at him, apparently stunned.
“You’ve been working on this for that long? That’s... some dedication. I knew you were devoted to your causes, but that sounds more like diligence to me.” The elf flushed and admitted, “I must confess I once thought you incapable of such a thing.”
Anders shrugged. “As I once thought you incapable of having any kind of tenderness for a mage and yet... here we are.”
Fenris grunted. “Touche.”
The elf then paused again to survey Anders himself, noticing the slight twitching of his right leg. “Diligence indeed,” he muttered. “You are overfull with energy this evening.” He smirked, moving closer and pressing up against Anders. The elf’s warmth did not stop Anders’ jitters, but it certainly had his attention.
“Oh? Overfull am I?” he asked playfully, carefully pulling the elf onto his lap. “What would you like to do about that? Since I missed tonight’s exercise, why don’t we... spar with our tongues instead? Or we could cuddle. This stool is not the best place for that though... though there is a bench on the far side of the room we could utilize. It’ll be awhile before these potions are done.”
“A nice cuddle would not go amiss,” Fenris admitted, though a little begrudgingly. Anders smiled as he unceremoniously swept up the elf in his arms, causing Fenris to yip sharply in surprise.
“I thought you liked cuddles, Fenris,” Anders teased, carrying him over to the bench and setting both of them down on top of the blankets there. Fenris huffed, but remained where Anders had lain him on top of his broad chest.
“I like them better when I choose to be cuddled... though I must also confess that I find it... rather pleasing to be picked up by up. And a little surprising, though perhaps it should not be, considering how heavy your staff is and the ease with which you twirl it around like a toothpick.”
Anders bit his lip a little at Fenris’ admission. “Oh, sorry about that–”
“Not to worry, mage,” Fenris reassured him. “Just sit back and enjoy the cuddling. You have earned a little time to relax.”
“It is still difficult sometimes, when Justice feels that relaxation is slothful.”
Fenris made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. “Your spirit can take those feelings and toss them into the void. Even I relax sometimes after a long day of hunting slavers or whatever it is we’ve been doing, and you work just as hard as I if not more so. And Hayden is adamant you take care of yourself better. It would not do to worry them.”
At Fenris’ words, the tension in Anders’ body lifted and he fell lax beneath the elf’s solid weight. A familiar soft guilt flooded his connection with Justice, followed by a tender apology. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and finally letting himself sink into the comforting warmth of the room around him.
No more words were exchanged between them, but there didn’t need to be. The silence between them was hardly silence at all with the soft bubbling of a cauldron still going on nearby and the gentle breathing of Fenris atop his chest.
He hadn’t realized he’d slipped into a doze until another knock at the door startled him from sleep, jarring a similarly dozing Fenris as they looked around and finally found Hayden standing in the doorway, staring at them and smiling to themselves as though they’d just discovered Lady Moonpaws doing something cute with her kittens.
“As adorable as you two are,” they said, chuckling to themselves, “I fear I need to wake you, as dinner is ready now.”
Anders and Fenris untangled themselves and stood up, Anders going to put out the fire beneath the cauldron of his latest batch of potions. He glanced at it and shrugged, figuring that he could bottle most of it after dinner if he asked for his lovers’ help, which they would most certainly give if it meant he could join them in the library for more cuddling faster than he usually did on nights when he usually preferred to work.
Well. Perhaps there wouldn’t be quite so much of that tonight. He had worked very hard and perhaps he did indeed deserve a little rest. There was always more work to be done tomorrow, but for what remained of today... he would relax. One only had so many days in their life, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of his to the best of his abilities.
Thank the Maker his lovers cared so deeply for his health and comfort. He smiled to himself as they made their way upstairs to eat; he would most definitely have to find a way to thank them later.
What does the end look like? Where did the trio end up? This is a time for some angst and goodbyes. Tissues suggested.
Question of the Day:
Did they have/adopt children? If so, what did they leave behind?
The trio spent their early years after Kirkwall in the isolation of the Amaranthine Forest, merely a few days’ ride from either Vigil’s Keep or Amaranthine itself. All were content in that isolation until it was disrupted by news from Varric about the Inquisition and the Wardens’ false Calling, and that was when they left that isolation for the first time.
Surviving Adamant and the Fade had been like going to the Void and back; with Anders and Fenris having to drag Hayden behind them as Stroud remained behind to hold off the Nightmare. But afterwards, seeing all of the devastation wrought by the Venatori and the Wardens still under their control, they could not bear to leave it. Alistair and Rashia elected to head to Wiesshaupt instead to seek answers from their higher ups, and of course Anders and Fenris remained with Hayden, helping the Inquisition where they could.
Fenris mostly helped on missions, though he rarely left without either of his healers. When not out with Fenris, Anders and Hayden tended to patients and refugees still displaced from the explosion at the Conclave, adult and child alike. Sometimes these children had parents, sometimes they did not.
Hayden’s heart went out to all of the children without, because they knew the pain of losing a parent in their youth. However, it wasn’t until Fenris brought back a pair of nearly infant twins from an excursion to a dragon-ravaged home that Hayden was struck with a desire to do more than keep them warm and healthy until a place could be found for them.
So, after many long discussions and several battles fraught with danger, the trio returned home when Corypheus was defeated… with two small children in tow.
Anders breathed deeply of the still winter air, and then exhaled slowly, watching as his breath misted and danced before him, mesmerizing. His gaze wandered across the line of trees several yards away from the porch where he sat, seemingly fixed on a point in the distance through the gentle evening snowfall. The wooden chair beneath him creaked slightly as he rocked, but the sound was muffled by the great white expanse that surrounded the area.
“Papa?” A voice called from inside the cabin, making him turn to cock his head in the direction of the sound.
“Yes darling?” He answered, and coughed once, twice. Wetness rattled in his chest, and he sighed, leaning back in the chair. Distant footsteps grew louder until the visage of an elven woman with dark hair and amber eyes came into view, brows pinched in concern. She held two steaming cups in her hands, offering one to him.
“You’ve been out here for awhile,” she said as he gingerly took one of the cups, and relishing the taste of warm liquid chocolate on his tongue. He hummed noncommittally. “Yes, I know,” he replied in a chiding tone, smirking softly. “Can’t an old man enjoy the peace and quiet of a winter’s evening once in awhile?” He flashed her a slight grin, but was interrupted when a series of small coughs escaped him, threatening to develop into a full fit.
“We’d let you be,” said a man’s voice from the doorway, equal parts teasing and stern, “if not for you being so quiet. Your cough’s getting worse, and when we hadn’t heard anything from you in awhile we feared that you’d just… well.” The man was elven, like the woman, and it was obvious they were related. His hair was dark, like hers, but his eyes were a bright jewel green instead of amber.
Anders smiled sadly at the man. “I’m sorry I can’t put your fears to rest, son. An illness like this can’t be cured with magic or potions, and I’m… not as young as I used to be.”
“We know, papa,” said the woman as she reached out to take his free hand into her own from her place in one of the other two rocking chairs. “People don’t live forever. We’re not meant to. I just… I want to be there for you.” There were tears swimming in the woman’s eyes, and Anders set his drink aside to reach up and brush a few from here cheeks.
“You are here for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, “and I’m grateful, I am. Both of you came all this way to be with your old man, and you didn’t have to.”
“Course we did,” the man grunted. “I mean, we know you’re never really alone, but with Hayden gone and Father having passed last Harvestmere… Liesel and I figured someone should be here, to keep you comfortable at the very least.”
Liesel snorted. “Faron’s being too humble, as usual. He said to me while we were on our way here actually, “Sister, it’s more than a duty to care for a parent in their last days; it’s an honor.” I mean, really. He spends too much time with Uncle Varric, I think.”
Anders chuckled. “Varric’s still kicking? Huh. What’s he got you doing, that he’s keeping you around for so long, Faron?”
“Dictating a memoir,” Faron grumbled. “The pain in his joints’d made it hard for him to write for years, so I’ve been transcribing everything for him.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t nearly so poetic when we were working on the last installment of Hard in Hightown. I think that thinking about the past has made him wistful. He even said he might tell me the story of Bianca if I ask him at the right time.”
“Bianca? As in the crossbow?”
“Nah, the woman. I mean, I’m pretty sure the crossbow’s involved, but he meant the woman. I’m sure of it.”
“I still say he’s gonna leave you hanging,” Liesel teased. Faron huffed, shurgging as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “Never said he wouldn’t. Anyway, his way of speaking gets stuck in my head sometimes and I say stuff weird.” Liesel grinned.
“You meant what you said though. I could tell.”
Anders smiled, picking up his cup and sipping it as he watched his adult children bicker with one another like they were small again. Warmth bloomed in his chest at the memories of raising them with Hayden and Fenris in this very cabin. He was glad to have them here with him during what could potentially be his last days. Hayden had been sick like this a few times before they’d eventually passed. Losing Hayden had hurt deeply, but at least he’d still had Fenris for several more years after that.
This past year on his own had been harder still, and he’d leaned heavily on Justice to keep him motivated to get out of bed each morning. He’d been so caught up in grief that he hadn’t noticed the onset of illness until nearly too late. He couldn’t bear to leave the home he’d built with his lovers, so he’d written to their children in Kirkwall instead, asking them to come if they could spare the time away from their own spouses and children to keep him company.
“Alright you two,” he chided them gently. “You know your father absolutely detested when you bickered without purpose. Why don’t you tell me how my grandchildren are doing? Liesel, isn’t your eldest getting married soon?”
“She is,” Liesel grumbled. “I feel so old, papa.”
Anders chuffed. “But she’s marrying a good man, yes? Or lady?”
Liesel nodded, her features softening. “A fine young man. I was surprised to learn he has an apprenticeship with the Hightown surgeon, with him being elven like us. I hadn’t thought it possible.”
“Varric’s done some good in that city, it seems,” Anders sighed, contentedly. “I mean, I doubt he’s erased elven prejudice entirely, but I know things are better there now, for a lot of people. Having all of those terrible Tevinter ruins cleansed of blood magic traces seemed to help a lot too, as I recall.”
“The Circle’s not in the Gallows anymore either,” Faron added. “And it’s not called a Circle. My two boys go there, and they tell me that their classes are quite pleasant. Just last month, Tamaris was showing me this thing he could do with these things he called fairy lights. It looked like the night sky was plastered all around us, without needing to go outside.”
“I used to do that, when I was young,” Anders remembered with fondness. “My first love, Karl, once charmed some to appear in the shapes of red carnations and crystal grace on my bed when I threw back the covers. I used to make some for your father when he would wake in the dark from his nightmares. They helped ground him.”
Anders chucked, and added, “Hayden liked them too, but they were more like Karl. They’d take your father and I out into the forest during autumn in evenings and we’d watch a magic light show while sharing a picnic by the water.”
“I remember those,” Faron mumbled, lost in thought. Liesel sighed contentedly. “I do too. They were lovely. I had no idea they were Hayden’s way of being romantic.” Anders nodded, laughing. “Well, with small children in the house, the three of us had to get creative with how we flirted. There was a lot of suggestive eyebrows waggling and slightly not so innocent dancing and hugging that went on when you were young.”
“And then it all went out the window that one time I walked in on you and Father having sex,” Faron snorted, and Liesel burst in a fit of giggles. “Hayden was mortified, but they set you and I down while Father and Papa were… finishing up, and we had the sex talk right then and there.”
A few more snickers escaped her as she held a hand to her mouth and wrapped the other around her side, clutching at her clothes while she tried to laugh silently.
Anders was laughing too, but he had to be careful not to laugh too hard in case he started to descend into a coughing fit instead. Everything ached these days, but the laughter his children brought him made him feel lighter than he had in months, and the ache was easier to ignore.
Eventually the twins coaxed him to come back inside to sit by the fire, and later that evening the three of them shared a hearty meal of steaming noodle broth with fresh vegetables and chunks of butter soft chicken. Shortly before Anders retired for bed, Liesel dug around in her packs, presenting him something wrapped in cheap brown parchment and tied with string.
“I’d almost forgotten this,” she muttered as he began meticulously opening the package. “We found this for you in the estate library before we left–Varric told Faron that it was one of your favorite trashy romance novels and that it was quite important to you.”
Anders gasped when he finished opening the package, pulling the parchment away to find a copy of Fang of the Dragonlord sitting inside. This was the same one that Hayden and Fenris had purchased for him when they’d still lived in Kirkwall, and several of the pages had been dog-eared in honor of the parts that had been Karl’s favorites from the copy he’d kept in the Circle.
“Thank you for being so thoughtful, dear,” he murmured as he pulled Liesel close and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “This will be such lovely bedtime reading, for certain.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Faron snickered, and Anders just fixed his son with a dead-eyed stare.
“Boy, I’m a widower well into my twilight years. I am more interested in keeping my plants pruned and my cat fed than getting it up. Besides, the story in this one’s actually good.”
“Compared to Swords and Shields?”
“Anything’s better than that. The position he describes in the second installment on page 69 is physically impossible, unless you’re a contortionist, and even then it still sounds vastly uncomfortable.” Faron snorted. “True. Still, you know, it couldn’t hurt. Don’t orgasms help… something when you’re sick?”
“That’s headaches, son,” Anders chortled, “and that doesn’t always work.”
“Whatever. Go get some rest, ok? And call for us, if… if you need us.”
“I will. I love you.” “We love you too, Papa.”
Anders leaned over and pressed a kiss to Faron’s forehead and slowly made his way to the bedroom he’d once shared with Hayden and Fenris.
It no longer smelled like them, but the room itself was full of several books and trinkets that they’d collected, gifts from their children and their friends. A drawer in the desk by the window was ajar, and inside it Anders knew was a box full of letters from their friends and each other, detailing much of their lives together from their time in Kirkwall onward. Some of Hayden’s old robes still hung in the closet, and in the dresser, tucked behind a sachet of elfroot and rosemary were a few pairs of worn black leggings.
Anders lit a candle and set it on one of the nightstands, laying the book on the bed. He moved to dress for sleep, but was struck with the sudden desire to wear one of the silk robes Hayden had gifted him, along with a pair of woolen socks that Fenris had knitted for him a long, long time ago.
He paused in front of the small mirror that had been hung on a nearby wall, reaching back to pull out his hair tie. His hair had gone full white in the last year, and a pang of sadness beat deep in his chest at the thought Fenris hadn’t been around to see it.
“We match now,” he whispered, sighing.
He would’ve laughed, Justice muttered quietly over their shared connection.
Anders chuffed as he brushed his hair and got into bed, skipping straight to the bits that he preferred, instead of the steamy scenes. “He would have, yes. He had teased me about it when we first found those early white strands. I wish… I, I wish…” He sniffed, tears forming in his eyes.
Hush now, Justice soothed. It’ll be alright.
Anders felt the spirit’s comfort in the core of him, and it helped as he breathed deeply, for once uninhibited by his illness. As his reading came to a close and exhaustion began creeping in, Anders found himself pausing at the last page, unwilling to turn it and close the book.
“Justice, I’m… I’m scared. Are you scared?”
Of what?
“Dying.”
Anders could practically feel the wheels of Justice’s mind turn as he thought, but the spirit’s answer surprised him when it finally came.
Strangely, I am not. In the Fade, there is no life and death. Spirits and demons simply… are. And while I know you hope that your death will return me to that state of existence, I have long hoped that it would not. Should I return as I am now, I would want. I would desire. These are dangerous things for a spirit.
But, in death, in whatever it means to fade from this existence into the next, I would not be a danger. In death, I could keep you company until we are separate beings once more. Our memories combined span more than your lifetime, a life that is well-lived at that. I would be content to retire my existence with you, knowing that good came from our being in this world.
So… no. I am not afraid. But do not feel shame that you are. It is normal, as I understand. Our children understand it.
Anders felt his breath leave him in a rush as a kind of peace stole over him.
“Thank you, Justice.”
The response that filled him was not words, per se, but Anders knew it to be a gesture of gratitude nonetheless. He shifted in bed, glancing out the window to see a glimpse of the clear, starry sky. It filled him with nostalgia as he thought on the many nights he’d spent staring at those stars with his lovers, and he wondered if, wherever they were, they missed him as much as he missed them.
After a few more moments, he closed the book and set it aside. He blew out the candle and settled under the covers, feeling the aches and pains from earlier return. Strangely, he welcomed the deep weariness in his bones, one of the signs of that life well lived.
The call of the Fade swelled, and he noted with some amusement that it was different tonight. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.
When next he opened them, it was to a familiar voice, saying, “So, mage. We did get to match after all,” while a peal of long forgotten laughter filled the air around them.
A distance away, a shimmering knight smiled, still unafraid as they winked out of existence.
Inspired by a discussion in the Weird Shit Discord about how it would be absolutely perfect for Anders to have a birthday in the spring and that tiny Anders would be running about with flowers in his hair while all the children in the village gather to help him celebrate his birthday.
That is not really the focus of this story, but it does play a crucial part. Enjoy.
Hayden loved their birthdays back when Malcolm had been alive. He would take them all out to a secluded spot in the forest and put on little magic shows for them in the early morning, and when the twins were still young and Bethany’s magic hadn’t come in, they danced and giggled in the shadows of the fairy lights, stumbling and falling headlong into the multicolored leaf piles.
Later, after Malcolm had died, their birthday became a more subdued affair. Mother and the twins would wish them a happy birthday before the start of the day, and sometimes there was a cake with candles. Sometimes. The year they spent in service to Athenril after they’d fled Lothering from the Blight was the worst, because it had come and went without fanfare.
Mostly. Carver remembered, and that day he was a little less surly than usual for Hayden’s sake.
Then they went on the expedition. Carver was… gone, but not dead. With the things they had brought back after Bartrand’s betrayal, they had been able to buy back the Amell estate, and Leandra had gotten it into her head that she needed to throw Hayden a lavish party to make up for all the things they had lost. Hayden had seen the idea for what it was and just let her do it; they might not need a lavish party, but she did.
They doubted it would fix whatever was bothering her, but they let her do it anyway because they loved her and just wanted her to be happy.
So here they were, grousing in the darkest corner of the room they could find, watching as half of Hightown milled about, eating the finest food and drink that their mother had been able to cater, all while sharing the latest gossip of the Kirkwall high society grapevine.
Hayden lifted their cup to their lips and took a long drink from their glass. The wine was good, at least, though some part of their hind brain told them that they should probably stop drinking soon.
“Hey handsome,” said a voice that made their insides curl with warm affection, “what are you doing back here, moping about on your birthday?”
There was a pause, and Hayden blinked up blearily as they looked around for the source of the voice and finding Anders standing nearby, frowning.He was still dressed in feathers, but Leandra had insisted that if their friends were going to be coming to this party, then they were at least going to look like they fit in. Anders still stuck out, however, though it didn’t seem to be because of the feathers themselves. They were merely... striking.
“Maker, how many glasses have you had?” he asked, concerned.
“Dunno,” Hayden replied, their speech slurred. “But prol-prop-prolly… shit. Ugh. Definitely too many.” They shook their head and shrugged, gesturing to the seat nearby. “Came to hide. Don’t mind your comp’ny though.”
Anders sat, still frowning, and they reached out to them gingerly with one hand.
“Hayden, what’s wrong?”
“Too many things,” they sighed again, suddenly just a tad more sober than they wished they were. Stupid magic, burning through that alcohol so quickly. “Mother thinks she can solve everything with a party. I wanna tell ‘er no, but I can’t take more things from her, I just can’t!”
Hayden sniffed wetly, and they heard a chair scrape softly across carpet before an arm was thrown over their shoulders and soft feathers tickled their cheek.
“Oh Hayden. I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”
You are doing something. This is something.
Or at least that was what they wanted to say. What came out was something more like a soft whine as they turned to bury their face in the feathers to hide their tears. “I want–I, I want my–”
I want my mother. I want my brother. I want my sister. I want my father.
I want my family back.
“Shhh,” Anders hushed him, and a soft pulse of magic filtered through the room that Hayden couldn’t identify. They lifted their head briefly to ask, “What?” very confusedly, but Anders just gently pressed them close and simply said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
And so Hayden clung to Anders and cried. No one saw them. No one came by.
It was nice. Anders’ voice filtered in through the distant noise of the party, soothing Hayden’s nerves. Anders was even slowly massaging little bursts of healing magic into their temples to relive the pain of their headache. Hayden couldn’t remember a time when they had felt so safe and cared for.
While Hayden was pressed against Anders, they listened intently to the story he told, a story about his past before the Circle. A rarity. A precious gift.
“I was born in the spring,” he began. “About halfway through Bloomingtide, if I recall correctly. Mutti used to braid flowers into my hair. White carnations, daisies, gerberas. They grew wild near our village, so there was always plenty of them. Vati would join Mutti in the cooking, or well, he tried to. Sometimes Mutti would just kick him out and shove us both out of the house.” Anders laughed, and it rumbled against Hayden’s cheek, filling them with warmth.
“That was usually when all of my friends would come to play. Some offered me gifts, or more flowers for my hair. Once, this girl who was sweet on me brought a bunch of ribbons and tied them to me and everyone wrapped them around me as though I were a Summerday pole!” Another rumbling laugh, an almost genuine thing that had him snickering. “That was the year before my magic manifested and I’d shot up like some gangly weed, so I could’ve probably stood in for a Summerday pole if I wanted to.”
Then he sighed and the laughter ceased. Hayden looked up and gently extricated themselves from Anders’ hold. He wasn’t quite done, though.
“Vati would always give me some wooden trinket that he’d whittled. A knight, a maid, a dragon. They were quiet detailed, I believe. And Mutti’s cake was just… divine. I still remember the recipe. It had these… outrageous measurements. She always made too much, so I could share with the other kids in the village, because when I was little I had apparently insisted that if I was getting cake, then everyone should get cake. But some of the ingredients are hard to get in the city, so I haven’t… haven’t gotten the chance to make it again.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Hayden said after a while. And then they offered their story about their father’s little light shows in return, and Anders chuckled.
“Oh, if there weren’t all these people here, I would summon some fairy lights just for you,” he said. Hayden laughed and shook their head. “That’s–that’s not necessary, really. You… you gave me the greatest gift, Anders. A story from your childhood. I… I know that you do not often part with those.”
They sniffed again and wiped their eyes as Anders’ earlier spell began to fade.
“Thank you,” they said, but Anders waved them away with a hand and gently pried their glass from their hands. “Maybe stick to the water for a while. Or the cider. I think it’s got honey in it, it’s very good.”
Anders stood up and Hayden stood with them, grasping one hand perhaps a little too quickly than was necessary.
“Wait. Do you mind showing me where it is? I think I could stomach returning to the party if you’ll do me the honor of sharing a glass.” Hayden swore that there was a flush to Anders’ cheeks at that, but he recovered quickly by flashing Hayden one of those fantastic smiles of his that hinted at the sort of man Hayden imagined Anders might be, in another life.
“Sure, Hayden,” Anders replied, linking arms with them and leading them back out into the light. “But I must insist that it would be my honor to share a glass with you, sweetheart.”
Then it was Hayden’s turn to feel the heat of flushed cheeks, but it was worth it enough to be able to go through the rest of the night with a smile.
Later, many years later, after Leandra was murdered and both Anders and Fenris had joined Hayden’s bed, the first fifteenth of Bloomingtide came and the two of them surprised Anders by waking him early in the morning with a box of flowers in Fenris’ hands, and a plate with a slice of cake in Hayden’s.
Anders recognized it immediately and burst into tears, and after he was finished he asked Hayden how in the world they’d known the recipe.
“I might’ve looked through your journals a few times when you were out collecting herbs,” they confessed. Anders didn’t have the heart to be angry as Fenris offered the red ribbon favor Hayden had given him in place of the usual leather tie that held back Anders’ hair. Hayden took it and tied Anders’ hair with it, and tied the flowers into a crown that they placed on Anders’ head.
“It’s too short to braid them in,” Hayden lamented, “but someday, I want to braid them in. I’ve been wanting to see you with braided hair for ages.” They tugged gently on their own braid while Fenris merely surveyed the scene with a sly grin.
“What’s with that smirk?” Anders asked, and Fenris laughed.
“You seemed a little disappointed after inhaling that piece of cake, mage,” he replied. “So I thought I should inform you that there’s more downstairs. Along with everyone else.”
“Everyone… else?”
“Our friends!” Hayden chirped excitedly. “Come on, they’re waiting!”
And so Anders joined them and spent the day joining in revelry he hadn’t known in a very long time. Even Justice couldn’t seem to bring himself to tear Anders away from it all. Mostly the spirit actually seemed to add to Anders’ happiness, being so impressed at the thoughtfulness of their lovers.
There were more tears later when Fenris offered him a little wooden figurine of a cat. “Why is it wearing armor?” Anders asked. Fenris shrugged. “I remember once that Merrill asked you who knighted that cat you mentioned… Ser Pounce-a-lot. She asked who knighted him, and whether or not he had a little sword.”
Anders looked at the figure, and the cat did indeed have a little sword, and a hat. Sweet Maker. That was when the tears came as he tried to thank Fenris, but all he managed to do was blubber incessantly. The elf merely took the figurine and placed it on the bedside table as the mage clung to him, crying happy tears.
Finally, at night, after a round of amazing if not slightly emotional sex, Anders asked Hayden why they had done all this for them.
Hayden’s answer was simple.
“You gave me a precious gift once in a time when I was sad. And these days, you never seem to have much to smile about. I merely thought I should return the favor. Happy Birthday, my love.”
And from then on, none of them had an unhappy birthday ever again.
Monday, April 3rd: We’ve been flirting for years now…
Fics/Art/Drabbles that explore when these three first knew that they were meant to all be together. Who made the first move? Was it obvious to everyone else but them?
Question of the Day:
How do you think they each said ‘I love you’ the first time?
Anders said it to Hayden the first night they had sex. He said it in every breath, every kiss, every fiber of his being. Hayden replied in kind that same night, but it was in the way they trailed their fingers across Anders' scars, first with the coolness of their magic, followed by the heat of their tongue.
Hayden had told Fenris that they loved him in a similar manner when they had been intimate for the first time, and they thought perhaps that had scared Fenris away. But later, when Fenris whispers the words to him one night, when Anders is fast asleep beside them: they realize that it had merely been the wrong time. So, the next time Hayden tells Fenris exactly how much they love him, Fenris does not shy away.
Finally, it takes a long time for Fenris to tell Anders that he loves him. Unlike with Hayden, it is a wild, angry thing that tumbles out of him in a rush during an argument, and suddenly the world stands still. Anders doesn't speak the words when he tells Fenris he loves him; he merely takes the elf's hand and comes to bed without complaint.
Varric had been able to see Hayden’s attraction to their healer from day one. He might not have been all that great with love in his writing or his life (all he needed was Bianca and he was just fine with that), but he knew that Hayden was head over heels for the mage even before Hayden knew it themselves.
And then came the broody elf.
Hayden’s face when the elf came stalking down the stairs, slaver falling at his feet, blood dripping down his gauntlet was nothing short of starstruck. Anders had been there too, and there was definitely attraction there.
But from the moment the elf had called Hayden and Anders vipers, there was already bad blood between them. Well, not Hayden. Hayden had only seemed hurt, crestfallen even. Poor kid. They liked people and wanted so much for people to like them and when that didn’t happen it looked like the world was ending in those pretty blue eyes…
Varric supposed that was what made the elf relent in the end. He apologized and even seemed surprised when Hayden called him handsome in spite of the insult. Hayden was so happy when the elf told him that he’d decided to stick around a while, and Varric had been certain that Hayden’s initial infatuation with the healer would end there.
It didn’t. And Varric didn’t understand it.
Oh, he knew that being attracted to more than one person was a thing, he just didn’t get it.
He could only hope that Hayden didn’t get hurt, batting those pretty puppy dog eyes at the two people in their party who hated each others’ guts so much that it was hell being in a group with the two of them (which was often, because Hayden took them everywhere).
Yet one didn’t need eyes to see that hurt was an inevitability.
It took an entire Deep Roads expedition (which, disaster that it was, could’ve been a lot worse without Blondie along for the ride) and the better part of three years, but the thing that Varric feared occurred not long after a little of Fenris’ past was revealed to their group by his former master’s now dead apprentice. Hayden had tried to ask if the elf was alright, but his only response was to ask, “What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?” before he ran off into the night.
To… the Hawke estate, apparently.
Where they most definitely had sex.
Hayden wouldn’t give him any details, but even if they had been willing, Varric doubted he could’ve understood them. The poor kid was insensible, dark hair unbound, tears and snot; everywhere. They’d tried drinking, but that had only seemed to make things worse. So they stopped, folded their arms on Varric’s table, buried their face into the fabric of their robes, and sobbed up a storm. At some point, Varric caught sight of the elf watching the scene from the crack in the door, his usually unexpressive face wracked with grief.
He’d turned and run once he noticed that Varric had seen him.
So. The elf was hurting too. And he continued to hurt from what Varric could gather when he saw a red favor cloth as well as a fresh potions pouch with a suspiciously familiar crest attach themselves to the elf’s person.
It must’ve hurt even worse when Hayden seemed to move on and bring the mage into their bed and their home, but Varric knew better. Hayden still held a candle for the elf, but they’d needed someone to physical to lean on for support and Anders had finally given in to Hayden’s pleas.
“They still want you, you know,” Varric had said to Fenris one evening at cards when the others were well into their later rounds of ale and it was just him and the elf sitting on the far side of the table, watching their friends. Fenris, for once, wasn’t drinking, and was just slowly nursing a bowl of stew and, of course, brooding. Varric couldn’t stand it when the elf brooded for too long, so he’d had to open his mouth to say something, even if it just might get him killed.
“No they don’t,” was Fenris’ bitter reply. “Hayden moved on. With him.”
Anders. Of course.
Varric sighed.
“Look, it’s possible for a person to love more than one person. I don’t get it either because my one and only is a crossbow, but trust me, it’s a thing. Now, they were head over heels for Blondie before they ever met you, but you didn’t see their face when they first saw you. Slight gasp, starry eyes, the works. They’ve still got those eyes for you!”
He gestured to Hayden in a “look here!” motion, and Fenris sat up to do so.
Hayden, now quite drunk and laughing happily, caught Fenris’ gaze for a moment before they flashed the elf a coy smile and batted their eyelashes at him before realizing what they’d just done and buried their face in Anders’ shoulder in the hopes no one else had seen.
Fenris’ breath caught in his throat and Varric grunted.
“See? Stars. They’re so bright they’re blinding.”
Now it was Fenris’ turn to grunt dismissively. “It doesn’t. Matter. They’re with Anders now.”
“Blondie was pretty smitten with you too before you called him a viper.”
“What? No. Impossible.”
Varric shrugged. “Yeah whatever, but I’m pretty sure that he was into you. Still don’t believe me? Maybe try talking to the man. It couldn’t hurt.”
Fenris had merely grumbled and got up to leave while the others were preoccupied with their drinking. Well, all except Anders, who had noticed Hayden’s quick flirt and was watching the elf slink off with a slightly pained expression. Yeah, Blondie still definitely had a thing for their broody friend.
Varric had just sighed and hoped that, whatever the elf did, he did it soon because damn if watching him brood didn’t make his trigger finger twitch, and if there was one thing Varric truly hated, it was hurting his friends.
Though, this was mostly because they did enough of that between themselves.
Fenris would make several attempts to speak to either Hayden or Anders about their feelings towards him… though few of those attempts ever made it outside of the crumbling mansion he called home.
Those that did make it out the door didn’t ever make it to Hawke’s because at some point Fenris would realize that he had no idea what he was doing or what he was going to say and he’d panic and retreat to the safety and comfort of his warm, dark room.
Yet one day, he’d somehow found himself standing in Hawke’s foyer, and he was panicking again because he’d found that his carefully constructed words had abandoned him.
Then Anders was there, looking too beautiful in his concern than the man had any right to be, and somehow they had ended up arguing. Fenris couldn’t remember about what, just that they’d argued, and then Hayden arrived home to discover them fighting and was already very upset about… something. Anders and Fenris turned to see the white lilies on the foyer tabletop, and they heard Gamlen’s voice chasing after them from the study.
Had Hayden seen Leandra? She was late for her visit to Gamlen’s.
No, Hayden hadn’t seen her.
Anders and Fenris exchanged a glance, and for the moment they agreed to put aside their arguments for Hayden’s sake.
This would turn out to be the first of many such moments, because the evening would turn out to end in disaster: Leandra’s body torn apart and stitched into a horrific amalgamation of people, a blood mage responsible for her death and the deaths of several other young women in the city, and Hayden; devastated.
Fenris, despite knowing he was terrible at comforting people, went to do so anyway, and somehow he ended up finishing the night with Hayden curled up between himself and Anders.
Anders, whose lips had felt softer against his own than anticipated.
How a single kiss could make his heart flutter.
Fenris wasn’t sure that he knew what love was, but if it could do anything to heal the wounds that he’d inflicted upon his relationship with the two mages, he was willing to give it a try.
Of course, just his presence alone was enough for Hayden.
Anders was still asleep, and this was strange because usually Justice would have roused him before the sun even rose, never mind allowed him to sleep in until what appeared to be almost noon.
Hayden blinked blearily as they tried to reach up to wipe the sleep from their eyes, only to find that their hands were curled up and between their chest and Anders’, while their arms were pinned by another arm they weren’t used to seeing when waking up: a thin,wiry, muscled thing with embedded lyrium dancing along the contours of dark brown skin…
The arm tensed, its owner likely realizing that Hayden was awake, and so it retreated back to curl against the elf to whom it belonged. Slowly, so as not to wake Anders, Hayden turned so they were facing Fenris, and they were about to bid him good morning before suddenly Anders’ thin arms wrapped around Hayden and brought them up against the taller mage’s chest.
Fenris hummed, and remarked upon seeing this happen, “And I thought you were supposed to be the clingy one.”
Hayden chuckled awkwardly. “Um, yeah. Usually. But Anders is also usually up long before now… what time is it?” They craned their head in an attempt to see the small dwarven timepiece Varric had given them as a housewarming gift.
“Ugh,” they groaned, letting their head fall back on the pillows. “Almost noon. We’ve slept the morning away…”
Their eyes trailed to Fenris, who was almost a good foot away from where Anders’ sleeping form held Hayden captive, and slightly tense for some reason that they couldn’t fathom. However, he was still there. He hadn’t left, even though he looked like he very much wished to.
“Do you wish to leave?” they asked in a whisper, and Fenris frowned in apparent confusion.
“I… I do not know. I still feel as though I am… trespassing. Like I do not belong.”
Hayden wanted to reach up and fold Fenris’ bangs behind his right ear so they could see his eyes better, but Anders’ arms still held fast.
“You aren’t,” Hayden insisted, and a thrill of fear lanced through them. “I… um,” –they sniffed wetly– “you don’t have to stay, but I would very much like you to.” Their breath came in soft pants, and suddenly they were crying softly into their pillows. Something shifted, and there was heat against their front which cause them to look up. They gasped, Fenris’ body was next to theirs, the elf’s face suddenly very close to their own.
“If that is what you wish,” Fenris whispered, and Hayden shook their head.
“Fenris, I’m not ordering you–” “I know,” the elf interrupted them gently, pressing a finger to their lips. “It is my choice to stay. I might be afraid, I might feel a little out of place, but… if having me here is what you need, then… I want to help. And… to make up for the time I have wasted.”
Then Fenris was kissing them, and it was so soft, so sweet, so beautiful–
“Mmm… what a lovely thing to wake up to,” murmured Anders from behind.
Fenris tensed again, and Hayden caught him with another kiss before he could pull away, teeth gently worrying at the elf’s bottom lip and nuzzling their noses together, hoping to distract him.
It appeared to work rather well actually, because when Hayden moved away Fenris was blinking at him owlishly, apparently a little stunned from the kiss.
“Sorry,” they whispered, smiling sheepishly. “I… well. You wanted to see me being clingy, right? That’s… that’s it.”
Anders scoffed, and Hayden rolled over to see the other mage shooting Fenris a smug, sleepy smile as he shook his head. “No, that’s just how this one says hello. They’re like a limpet on cold nights…”
“Hey,” Hayden growled playfully, “you never complained about those nights.”
Anders chuckled and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before turning to look back at Hayden. “Hey… what time is it?”
“Almost noon,” they answered, and Anders almost fell out of this bed in his surprise. “What?! Noon? Justice, why in the void didn’t you wake me…?” Hayden merely sat up to watch as Anders flitted about the room, gathering his things, Fenris joining them in observing the spectacle.
“Is… he normally like this in the mornings?”
“It’s noon. Normally he’s gone before the sun rises, and even I don’t usually sleep in this late.”
“Yesterday was…”
“I know.” Hayden clutched at the sheets, tears burning in their eyes again as they tried not to cry. “I… I… Maker. I don’t even have a body to burn anymore. What the hell do I do…?”
They drew their knees up to their chest and wrapped their arms around themselves. This time they didn’t bother holding back tears as they sobbed into the silk of their trousers, and they didn’t notice when the sounds of Anders’ panicked movements had ceased until a hand was rubbing at their back and the bed dipped again under Anders’ weight. Fenris was still close by, still not quite sure what to do, but he’d placed a hand on Hayden’s right shoulder and was idly massaging the muscles there with his thumb.
“Hayden,” Anders whispered, causing Hayden’s attention to shift at the sound of their name.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“What about Justice? The clinic?”
Anders shrugged. “The clinic will survive a few days without me. But you’ve just lost a loved one… I would be a fool to leave you alone.”
“They’re not alone,” Fenris grumbled, and Hayden could sense a little of the tension from last night resurfacing between them. However, Anders merely closed his eyes, breathed deeply for a beat or two, and then nodded in agreement. “Yes, you’re right,” he told the elf in a low voice. “I merely meant that the more support Hayden has right now, the easier things will be.”
Fenris studied Anders for a few moments before nodding slowly in return.
“I know. But… thank you.” The for understanding bit went unsaid.
Anders sighed softly in relief and reached for one of Fenris’ hands, pausing just before skin met skin. “May I touch?” Anders asked, and Fenris’ expression was suddenly one of shock, or surprise. “I… yes?”
Long, knobby fingers curled under lyrium lined calloused ones as Anders gently leaned over Hayden to press a kiss to a part of the back of Fenris’ where the lyrium did not touch.
“You’re quite welcome,” Anders whispered, smiling softly up at the elf, who was… blushing? Yes, Hayden was certain Fenris’ ears were glowing with a soft rosy flush and they were twitching like mad in the way they had once done in the early days of their friendship, drinking stolen wine in a stolen mansion.
Anders released the elf’s hand and looked over at Hayden as he said quietly, “I’m going to go downstairs and see if Orana doesn’t mind fixing us something to eat. Do you want anything?” He glanced at Fenris. “Or you?”
“Just… no fish…” was all the elf seemed to manage, still staring at his hand.
Hayden smiled at the sight before looking back up to meet Anders’ honey-colored gaze. “I… there was… this soup. Mama used to make it when I was sick… I think Orana might know the recipe…”
Anders’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “I actually think I know that recipe. Chicken and rice, yes? With peas, carrots, and… ginger? No. Sage.”
“Yes, that’s it.” Hayden scooted closer to Fenris and stared down at their hands resting in their lap. “I… I’d like some of that please.” Beside him, Fenris tensed a little, but eventually he relaxed again and even pressed back, very tentatively, letting Hayden know without saying a word that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Alright,” Anders said when Hayden confirmed that was what they wanted, “I’ll be back up in a bit, alright? Then after lunch we can decide what you want to do next, perhaps?” Hayden nodded. “Sounds good. And… thank you, Anders. I’m… really glad you’re staying.”
“Me too,” Anders agreed, and he was out the door momentarily, leaving Hayden alone with Fenris, who was still letting Hayden lean against him, though without any back support the position had to be uncomfortable.
“Do you… want to scoot back?” Hayden asked Fenris in a small voice. “Against the headboard?”
“Sure.” And it was that easy. They moved back and settled against the pillows and the headboard and suddenly things were much easier. Fenris, instead of leaning against Hayden, slouched back a little and lay partially on top of them, being mindful of where their right arm was so he wasn’t laying on it.
Despite normally not minding silence, Hayden couldn’t seem to stand it today. The air seemed too still, too quiet. Never before had they felt such a need to fill that silence, but now…
“So, um,” they began, briefly clearing their throat, “what was that between you and Anders just now? That looked like… flirting.”
“We were not flirting,” Fenris grumbled, and a quiet bubble of laughter spilled from their lips. “Yes you were,” they teased gently. “You were blushing. I haven’t seen you blush like that since… since…”
“Since I left?”
“Yes.” And then the laughter was gone and Hayden found themselves in tears again. “Damnit… I wish my face would just pick a thing a stick with it… I hate crying.” Fenris chuckled softly, and a low, stuttering purr started up afterwards, the sound vibrating off of the elf in waves.
Suddenly Hayden was calm again, though tears still fell every now and then.
“Um… thank you. You.. you don’t have to do that, though. I know… I know you don’t like it.”
“I didn’t like it because it wasn’t a thing that I was allowed to do without being told that I could. I am… merely trying to reclaim that part of myself. And… if it helps you in the process, then… well.” Fenris shrugged.
“But… about Anders… I don’t really know what’s happening there. I know he makes me feel… things. They’re sort of like the things that I feel when I think about being with you… but different.” Hayden tilted his head, despite Fenris not being able to see. “A… good kind of different, I hope?”
“I think so. I told him last night that I would give… us a try. I don’t know what do in this sort of relationship though, or how to behave…”
“I imagine it’s just like any other sort of relationship,” Hayden replied. “It’s not all sunshine and roses. Even between two people, a good relationship takes work. Communication. Compromise. We’ll have to talk things out a lot.” They chuckled quietly and added, almost teasingly, “And maybe sometimes there won’t be a lot of talking at all…”
Fenris groaned. “Anders is rubbing off on you. I am not certain how I should react to this.”
“However you like,” Hayden assured him. “And know that should you ever feel uncomfortable about something; tell us. As for the rubbing… Anders is downstairs. Believe me, I would know if he were doing any sort of rubbing.”
“Fasta vass.”
Hayden laughed, bending down to kiss the crown of Fenris’ hair.
That was the moment Hayden knew they were meant to be together, even though it had taken a lot to get there and they still had a long way to go. But they had Fenris in their arms and Anders not far away; even with Mother gone Hayden knew that they would never be alone again: not if either their feather-loving mage or literal heart-stealing elf had anything to say about it.
This is a poly ship to begin with, but who else can you see being in the mix? Justice? Nathaniel? Karl? Isabela? Feel free to AU!
Question of the Day:
What do the rest of the Kirkwall Crew think about their relationship?
Aveline is baffled, mostly. She wonders often how such very different people can live together and still claim to truly love each other in the way she loves Donnic. And yet… they seem to be happy, so until she sees otherwise, she is happy too.
Isabela sometimes wishes she could be in their bed too, until she remembers that she has her kitten to keep warm at night, but of course it never hurts to fantasize. (She also envies their closeness, just a bit, but Kitten helps there too.)
Sebastian remembers his wild days whenever he looks at any of them, and his still un-renewed vows chafe at him a little when he lets himself wonder what it would be like to be that man again. Perhaps not the callous, uncaring sort that he’d been before the Chantry had changed him, but… just him. With them. With them, he might feel wanted again, but for now he just watches… and wonders.
Merrill thinks they look good together. There was a lot of pain in the beginning, but even she knows that some things need to break a little and then grow back over time to be strong enough to really last. She likes watching them steal kisses and small touches when no one is looking. She especially likes it when they think they are being subtle, arousing one another during cards. It’s very cute.
Varric doesn’t understand how romantic relationships with other living beings work. It’s probably why the few he’s ever had ended up in disaster and after those fiascos he decided that his one and only was to be his crossbow instead. But somehow Hayden is able to love and receive love from so many at once, but especially Blondie and Broody –together– Varric thinks the kid is some sort of magician. Then he laughs, remembering that they are a mage, so perhaps that is how they managed it. Or maybe they just know something he doesn’t.
Either way, everyone’s happy that Hayden is, and that’s always a good thing.
Today’s drabble is brought to you by: angst and hugs. Featuring a young Jeremy Irons as Karl Thekla, Tom Mison (Ichabod Crane) as Anders, a young Orlando Bloom as Hayden Hawke, and cosplayer twinfools as Fenris. Enjoy. ;)
Hayden had never imagined finding love in an unforgiving place such as Kirkwall, but perhaps that was because they hadn’t also taken into account that love might find them instead.
Anders had been… a vision to see when the other mage had rounded on him, staff at the ready and power in his hands, prepared to defend his self proclaimed sanctum of healing and salvation. There had been some definite flirting too, which Hayden was all too eager to reciprocate (much to the discomfort of Carver), and the healer was amicable enough once he realized that Hayden was a mage too.
“You’ve never been inside a Circle?” The other mage had asked, half excited, half amazed. “No,” Hayden had answered. “Not once.” Neither had Bethany, but they didn’t want to mention her just yet. Even over a year out, her memory still caused an ache in their soul when they thought about her.
He wouldn’t give them the Deep Road maps without a favor though, and Hayden said they were fine with it, “…as long as it doesn’t involve children or animals.” Anders’ lips had twitched briefly into a half smile before becoming serious again, and all he asked for in return was for their help in rescuing a friend of his from the Gallows.
Of course, such things were never so simple as that.
The mission had almost ended up in disaster before it began, with Hayden arriving at the Chantry with Anders and two others in the dead of night, a sinking feeling in their gut that something was about to go terribly, horribly wrong. They arrived at the place where Anders’ letter said to meet, only to be greeted with the sight of two templars holding a mage down on a table with another holding the lyrium brand and several other standing to watch.
The brand had been mere inches from the mage’s forehead when a furious roar erupted from Anders, interrupting the ritual, and the blond mage’s skin split with Fade blue lightning, his voice shifting into a deep, rumbling sound that Hayden swore contained the words of two of him speaking at once.
“You shall not have him!”
All of the Templars fell at their hands, though most of them had been felled by Anders alone. Anders, who danced around the room with all the grace that only months of training could bring and who fought with the bladed end of his staff just as ruthlessly as he fought with his magic. It was he who was likely the only reason that they lived at all, especially when Hayden had been hit with a cloud of energy from one of the Templars, their connection to the Fade briefly cut off.
But they lived, and Anders’ friend Karl had as well.
Anders had fussed over the man for a bit, giving him a deep, consuming kiss that tore at Hayden’s heart when they realized this other man was perhaps a little more than a friend, but Carver hadn’t any such reservations when he yelled at Anders to come heal Hayden.
They hissed, trying to summon their magic through the haze that was their connection to the Fade, but to no avail.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Anders had soothed, his healing touch soothing the bite of the wound in Hayden’s side. “You got hit with a Smite, didn’t you? Don’t try to pull at your magic, your connection to the Fade is going to feel funny for a while and it’s going to hurt if you don’t let it come back on it’s own.”
Hayden frowned through the fog of the… Smite, Anders had called it?
“I feel… strange. Lightheaded.”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes. It’ll go away soon.”
Anders flashed Hayden a reassuring smile that turned twisted his insides and made Hayden’s heart beat just a hair faster. “We should leave soon too,” Karl cut in gently. “Someone will likely have heard the sounds of fighting. It would not be wise to linger.”
And so they left, and Karl moved in with Anders in his clinic.
Hayden still liked Anders. Liked him very much. But they didn’t want to ruin whatever he and Karl had by getting in between them, even though they spent a lot of time with the two mages after Anders had discovered Hayden’s aptitude for healing. Being around them so often warmed Karl to Hayden a bit, almost to the point where they could see a little of what their (apparently possessed) healer saw in the other mage.
After Karl had shaved and started combing his hair on a regular basis, Hayden had to admit the man was downright gorgeous with that sharp chin, full cheekbones, and bright eyes, combined with his salt and pepper hair that Karl claimed was him going grey far earlier than most.
Karl was a vastly different man than Anders. He was the calm to Anders’ fury, the careful reasoning that tempered Anders’ zeal for justice. Yet Karl was by no means a wealth of serenity all the time, he had his own moments of passion as well. He just kept them better than Anders did until that anger could be used as fuel for something else.
Like killing slavers, for example, as was the case on the night they met Fenris.
Fenris… Hayden wasn’t certain if they had the words to describe how beautiful and terrifying the elf was, stalking down the stairs with blood still dripping off of his gauntlet which he’d used to crush the heart of a man whist it still beat in his chest. It made Hayden tremble with fear to watch, but when the elf asked for their help in tracking down his master to see if he could catch him fast enough to kill him… Hayden leapt at the chance.
And then Fenris revealed to them his hatred of mages, and Hayden’s heart fell to pieces once more. It seemed to Hayden that every person they wanted to flirt with was either taken or was under no uncertain terms ever going to be interested, but something that Hayden said (an offhand comment about the elf being handsome) caused Fenris to flush and stammer, and Hayden’s spirits lifted. Perhaps there was hope after all.
That had been Hayden’s entire basis for flirting so shamelessly with the elf every time an opportunity presented itself from then on.
And they still liked Anders. And Karl. Fenris didn’t.
Putting him in the same room with Anders was an unstable fireball waiting to explode, a thing that often could and would occur when Hayden took them out on trips to earn coin to buy their expedition partnership from Varric’s brother.
Fenris didn’t seem to know what to make of Karl.
Once, Hayden tried bringing Karl on a trip to the coast with Fenris and Varric, and Fenris had tried to start baiting him with the same questions that often so riled Karl’s wilder other half.
This did not happen with Karl.
“Your partner is an abomination,” Fenris stated one afternoon while Hayden and Varric were scouting ahead. Karl nodded. “Yes, that is the correct technical term. However, I find that true abominations have not the capacity to care for anyone other than themselves, and Anders often insists that there isn’t enough being done for the poor and destitute of this city.”
Karl sighed, folding his arms and shaking his head disapprovingly.
“He will likely forget to have lunch today, or instead he will give it to someone else and go without. Being host to a Fade spirit has some advantages, one of them being a larger mana well and a wealth of excess energy, but a mortal body still requires food and water and sleep. And, that is another thing that I find true abominations incapable of: reasoning.”
Fenris scoffed. “I do not find that I am able to reason with him at all.”
Karl chuckled. “He can be reasoned with. It is merely that your questions bring about the worst in him. As for the spirit he is host to, Justice is a demanding spirit. It is not like Compassion or Faith, which are patient and content with only giving and serving their purposes. Justice is not such a patient virtue, as it requires that when it is confronted with an injustice, it must correct it.”
“Some injustices cannot be corrected,” Fenris huffed bitterly, and Karl fixed him with an assessing stare. “Like your treatment at the hands of your former master? Yes, you are correct in that. And indeed, even those injustices that can be corrected do not always have an easy path to follow, and some of those paths can even create more problems than they solve.”
“Like your partner’s ridiculous crusade for mage freedom. He wishes to bring about another Tevinter.”
“Not as such. He merely wishes to be able to choose to either stand in the rain or head inside for shelter, to feel the wind on his face or watch it blow through the leaves of a tree from the comfort of a place of his choosing and not the barred windows of a tower, if indeed that tower has windows at all. He wishes for mage mothers to not have their children torn from their breast the moment the cord is cut, or indeed non-mage mothers to have to give their children up and never see them again. Is it so wrong to want those things?”
Fenris shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
“I… well, why does he not say these things when I ask him why? All he does is go on about how mages are like the slaves of Tevinter!”
“And you disagree?” Karl asked calmly, to which Fenris growled, “Of course I do! He knows nothing of what it means to be a slave.” Karl was silent for a while, waiting until Fenris had calmed before speaking again. “Then perhaps you should tell him what it means. I would not mind learning what that means as well. To help my reasoning with his spirit of Justice at least, if nothing else. It is hard to reason with such a driven mind, but if I have a clearer picture of what true slavery looks like, then we might be able to pick apart the issue with a finer comb and perhaps that will allow us to address those fears of yours.”
“Which ones?” Fenris grumbled, tired of trying to get a rise out of the mage.
“About southern mage freedom possibly bringing about another Tevinter. I’m merely saying that if you are willing to share your experiences, we can learn from them. I am certain of it.”
Fenris sighed deeply, shifting restlessly again once he’d caught sight of Hayden and Varric coming back over the ridge.
“I cannot decide if you are either stupid or foolish…”
“It is entirely possible that I am both. I have never claimed to be the opposite or either of those things. In fact, it is more than likely that I possess a wealth of stupidity and foolishness in spades. My partner is possessed, after all.”
Absolutely. Baffling.
But over time Karl seemed to earn Fenris’ grudging respect, and after a fashion, he and Anders managed to call a truce on some things. Fenris still didn’t tell anyone much about his time as a slave with the exception of Hayden, who had worked very hard to earn and keep his friendship over the course of the three years that followed their expedition into the Deep Roads.
And speaking of that, the tentative peace that Anders and Fenris had brokered under Karl’s careful handling had emboldened the headstrong mage to begin to ask things of Fenris like, “Would you like a salve for those markings?” or, “Your posture is awful. If you don’t mind letting me touch you, I could work out some of the knots in your spine.” or, “You flinch whenever I cast my offensive spells, even though I’ve never hit you with them on accident like Merrill does. Is it because of your background or does the actual casting cause you pain?”
Concern. Never-ending concern. It was ceaseless, and interspersed with sprinklings of nonsense and filler words that existed as if only to fill the silence, but it was always present when the healer spoke to him now.
Or… had he always spoken to him that way and Fenris had simply never noticed? It would not surprise him if he hadn’t.
Then one evening he came by the mansion and the two of them were standing there, Anders on the doorstep, Fenris blocking the way inside like a high dragon guarding their den. “What do you want, mage?” Fenris had asked, rather brusquely, and Anders bristled at the tone. Something about that tone just irked the blond mage, Fenris noticed. There was a fire in his eyes when anyone talked to the mage with such derision, and Fenris wondered if something in the mage’s past mage him react so, until he balked at that train of thought upon realizing that he was worrying over a mage’s feelings.
Worse, a possessed mage.
This time, Anders struggled to formulate a response, and Fenris frowned when Anders looked away and wrung his hands.
“…Anders?”
Anders looked up sharply, eyes wide with surprise. Fenris never used his name, like, ever. “What?” he gasped, breath leaving him in a rush.
“I asked you what you wanted,” Fenris said in a low voice. Something was… off with the healer. He seemed distracted, distressed. “You rarely come to me unless you want something.” He waited for the mage’s response, but he could also hear a patrol of guards coming up the stairs, and Anders was still standing outside, very clearly wearing a staff.
Fenris grasped his arm as gently as he could and dragged him inside.
“H-Hey!” Anders squawked, but Fenris paid him no mind until the door was closed behind them.
“There was a patrol coming,” Fenris offered by way of an explanation, and then he added, “Now. what did you want? Or did you come here hoping you might know by the time you arrived?” This too, almost got a rise out of the healer, but mostly it appeared to help cement his resolve.
“No,” Anders replied very quietly. “I knew what I came here for, I…” He grumbled, sighed, and shook his head. “You have no reason to grant this request, but I am asking if you would at least consider it…” Fenris chuffed. “I have to hear the request first before I can even do that, Anders.” This, strangely, cause the mage to look at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“Did you just…? No, never mind. I, ugh.” Anders fidgeted, running a hand through his hair, which Fenris had just now noticed wasn’t up in its usual tie. It fell around his face in soft waves, making him appear younger and less stern.
“I’m going with Hayden into the Deep Roads,” Anders said at last, finally managing to speak when he picked a spot on the floor to stare at. Fenris frowned again, feeling very uncomfortable about the fact that the mage seemed incapable of meeting his eyes, like a… no. No.
Unaware of his thoughts, Anders continued with, “Because, I mean, they really do need a Warden down there with them. Much as I detest the place, going with them will help decrease the chances in which they’ll encounter pockets of Darkspawn and perhaps they won’t die horribly. But, I digress.” At last, the mage straightened and looked up, though Fenris could tell that he wasn’t really looking Fenris in the eye, even still.
“Karl won’t be coming with me. He’s not a Warden, and it’s going to be tough enough having to worry about Hayden, Carver, and the rest of the expedition. But… I still worry about him. What if I come back and the Templars have caught him again and this time there’s no one to stop them from making him Tranquil?”
The skin of Anders’ hands began to split with blue lightning, and Fenris tensed while Anders took a moment to calm down before speaking again.
“I came to ask if you would… allow him to stay here. Just until we come back, that’s all.”
“Why is he not here to ask this himself?” Fenris asked in return.
Anders frowned, sighing with exasperation. “Because he thinks he is clever enough to avoid detection. And, perhaps he is, but… I do not like leaving him here knowing that there is even the slightest possibility that he might be as good as dead when I come back…”
Anders looked down again and sniffled wetly, his shoulders shaking.
“Why… why ask me to do this?” Fenris asked after awhile, not quite sure what to do about the crying mage in his foyer. Again, Anders had to take a few breaths before he continued, but eventually he managed to formulate a reply.
“Because Aveline is a member of the guard and would have to turn him in were she caught, Isabela lives in the tavern which is frequented by Templars, and Merrill… well. There are about a thousand reasons why that’s not a good idea, and a good portion of those don’t even factor in the blood magic…”
Anders sighed again and shook his head, shrugging sheepishly as, at last, he was able to meet Fenris’ eyes. “A lot of the mansions in Hightown also have entrances to Darktown from their cellars, apparently, and if yours is one of them, he could still go back and forth between the clinic and here and remain relatively safe until we came back.”
“You… do not wish me to guard the clinic? Or Karl?”
“Maker, no!” Anders swore softly. “He’d hate that. Being shadowed, I mean. Of course, if you want to do that I doubt he’d tell you off for it, but I won’t ask that of you. I might be more thoughtless than thoughtful than people are willing to tolerate, but even I wouldn’t go that far.”
Fenris folded his arms across his chest as he considered Anders’ request.
He had hated Anders and Karl from the moment he learned what they were. He wouldn’t deny that. He’d even had a brief hatred for Hayden, despite the fact that they had come to his aid without a second thought, even though they hadn’t known who he was or perhaps even possessed fear for their own safety. But as his friendship with Hayden had overcome that initial dislike, so had Karl’s charm and wit overcome his hatred for both of them and allowed him to see through Anders’ tics and bravado. Fenris still didn’t fully understand why Anders did or said half of the things that he did, but he knew that there was reasoning behind every action, whether or not Anders himself knew that.
“You… are not as thoughtless as you think,” Fenris muttered.
Anders just stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I shall be by later tomorrow to offer him a place here, should he wish it. I will not force him to stay, however.”
Slowly, Anders nodded.
“I… yes. That is more than what I had hoped for. Thank you.”
Fenris didn’t understand what the twisting of his insides at the sight of the mage’s grateful smile meant exactly, but he knew that it brought out the lights of Anders’ eyes somehow. And he also knew that, strangely, he wished that the mage would smile more from then on.
Spending time with Fenris had been… enlightening for Karl.
Firstly, the normally composed elf seemed strangely off center when he’d brought up the subject of Karl’s safety on that fateful afternoon. Anders had closed the clinic early in preparation for his leaving for the Deep Roads, and Karl had been watching with curiosity as he muttered his list of things under his breath. Almost seamlessly, the elf snuck into the clinic to stand beside Karl, and eventually he looked over to whisper, “Afternoon, Fenris.”
Fenris grunted. “Afternoon.”
The elf looked over the scene with Karl and slightly jerked his head in Anders’ direction. “Preparations, I assume?” Karl nodded. “Yes. I do still wish I could go with him, in spite of everything. He doesn’t do well in tight, dark spaces and I fear that if something goes wrong…”
“Karl? Are you talking to someone?” Anders called from the back of the clinic.
Karl smirked in response, even though Anders couldn’t see. “It’s only Fenris! Come to offer me a sanctuary of sorts while you’re gone, I assume.”
Fenris made a strangled sound in the back of his throat while beyond their sight, something fell to the ground in a great crash, followed by some guttural swearing. Or, it sounded like swearing.
“How did…?” Fenris tried to speak, but he appeared to still be a little stupefied by Karl’s words. He chuckled, rather amused by the proceedings. “What? You think I wasn’t aware that’s what Anders went out to go do last night? As I said, he worries too much; I can handle myself.”
“You could at least give him a little piece of mind,” Fenris grumbled. “If he is already so troubled in tight, dark places by his own mind, then perhaps putting your safety out of his mind will help him sleep better and therefore be rested enough to guide the expedition to safety?”
Karl cracked the elf a sly smile.
“Is that concern I hear, Fenris? I’m touched.”
Fenris’ ears reddened with embarrassment and flattened against the sides of his head, shoulders hunching over slightly as he rumbled with discontent.
“Urrgh. Look, I found an exit into Darktown through the mansion’s cellar, and the keys that go to it. Do Anders a favor and come pick out a room before he leaves? I recommend bringing a broom. Also, I am not certain of the condition of the bedding in the other bedrooms, so you may also wish to bring a bucket to wash linens in.”
And with that, the elf stalked off, the flush that had crept into his ears slowly beginning to spread to his face and neck as he disappeared behind the clinic doors. As he was leaving, Anders had finally come out from behind the curtain that was their cordoned off “bedroom”, carrying a worn Chantry meditation pillow in his hands.
“That was Fenris?” Anders asked, face twisting in worry. There was something else there too, Karl noted. A degree of concern that hadn’t been there before yesterday. Karl nodded in response to Anders question as he tried to discern the source of his feathermage’s worries.
“Yes. He came by to offer me sanctuary while you are away. How thoughtful of him.” He fixed Anders with a knowing stare, and the other mage grumbled.
“Alright, so maybe I went and asked him last night,” Anders confessed under Karl’s scrutiny. “I just… I don’t want to come back and find that you’ve been caught and made Tranquil! I know we took care of your phylactery, but this… this clinic is… it isn’t the safest place.” Anders hugged the pillow tight against his chest as he sniffed and looked away.
Karl sighed softly before walking over to Anders and pulling the other man into his embrace. “Oh, Anders. I’m sorry if I’ve worried you.” He pressed a quick kiss to Anders’ cheek and wondered when his lover had gotten so damn tall. He chuckled, causing Anders’ expression to shift to one of confusion.
“What? Something on my face?”
“No,” Karl said through another kiss, this time pressed against the corner of Anders’ lips. “It’s just that your eyes were barely up to my shoulders when we were together at Kinloch. Now look at you, nearly half a head taller than me! You beanpole, you.”
Anders chuckled, angling his head so that he could nuzzle his nose (his beautiful, sharp nose) against Karl’s, their eyelashes fluttering against one another’s like the softest of kisses.
“Well, you know what they say about tall people and what’s under their robes… though, I doubt that even with my height I could ever surpass you.”
“Anders. You’re going to make me blush.”
“Ha! As if I could, you dirty old man. Shut up and give me a send-off that will keep me warm in the Deep Roads, won’t you?”
Karl hummed in amusement. “Of course, love. And I’ll keep your pillow safe, unless you wish to take it with you…?”
Anders shook his head. “No, I’d like you to keep it for now. Gives me another reason to come back.”
The expedition left around noon two days later, and Fenris had helped Karl settle in the bedroom next to his. However, despite having separate rooms, they spent quite a bit of time together, and this gave Karl ample time to observe and get to know Fenris in whatever capacity he could. Karl, though he was not the healer Anders was, still went down to work in the clinic to tend to the displaced refugees, and from day one Fenris had immediately decided to follow.
Of course he seemed unsure what to do until Karl showed him how to tell the difference between a broken bone and a bruised one, and how to set the broken bones so that if a person took a healing potion then the break would heal cleanly with little help.
He also showed the elf how to wash and fold soiled bandages, but when he asked if the elf could also help brew potions, Fenris balked at the question.
“It isn’t a hard recipe,” Karl insisted. “It’s just elfroot, some distillation agents. A concentrator. The tasks are very simple.” Fenris glanced at the book Karl had open, but he looked away and said in a voice so low it was almost beyond Karl’s hearing, “They are simple if one can read them, mage.”
Karl blinked at Fenris owlishly, taking a few breaths to think before he spoke.
“I… I see. Well. Would you like to learn? I think Anders might be a better teacher for this, since he was often tasked with teaching the younger apprentices as a punishment –though why that would be considered a punishment is beyond me– but perhaps I could help you grasp the basics well enough. You are a fast learner Fenris, and I believe you have the aptitude.”
Fenris had stared at him for a very long time, as though he were not certain that Karl’s offer was real. So Karl met Fenris’ gaze and said, very seriously, “It is a skill that anyone who wishes to claim their freedom should have, I think. Now, the potions don’t have to be made today, but there are always bandages that need washing. Why don’t you finish the next batch that’s boiling right now and do some thinking, hmm? We can discuss over dinner later if you like.”
The elf didn’t wait until dinner to agree to his proposal. It wasn’t more than a heartbeat after Karl had closed up the clinic and they were walking back to the cellar passage when Fenris brought it up.
“I want to learn,” he said assertively. “When can we start?”
As soon as possible, Karl decided.
Through this, they established a routine: get up, have breakfast. As Karl cooked, he usually had Fenris practicing writing each letter or playing a sort of memory game that Karl had devised which helped Fenris recognize letter combinations and so on and so forth. Afterwards they went to the clinic, tried to help the refugees as best they could with bandages, potions, and Karl’s middling skill at magical healing, and usually after lunch they would either go back to work or close up and run errands.
However, sometimes Fenris would have to do jobs for Aveline or Hayden’s former employer, Athenril. Karl guessed that he didn’t like the work much, but it was good coin and the other elf never shortchanged him. Fenris seemed distressed whenever he had to leave Karl alone, though it seemed to actually stem from genuine worry than fear at leaving a mage to run about without supervision. Karl found it strangely endearing.
One day however, a young refugee boy came running into the clinic and Karl stopped dead in his tracks, fear lancing through his heart. But some other child had gone to fetch Fenris, having seen the elf around and carrying that massive sword of his and he got there just in time to shove Karl in one of the boltholes that Anders had shown him, and they’d lain there for a long time while a Templar raid occurred just outside.
“Are you alright?” Karl had whispered when he noticed Fenris trembling against him. There was not much space in the bolthole, which made Karl wonder how Anders ever tolerated these things, and Fenris was laying right on top of him, trying to keep his markings from glowing too brightly in the dark space.
“Quiet, Karl,” the elf hissed back, but after a while he relaxed against Karl’s chest and his breathing evened out. “The clinic is going to be a mess,” he muttered, and Karl chuffed. “Could be worse,” he murmured, “they could be dragging me back to the Gallows right now,” and Fenris grunted. “Do not speak of such things. Please.”
Fenris’ hands were clutching at the fabric of Karl’s shirt so hard he feared the elf might tear through them… until he realized that he was only wearing about half of his armor and his sword was missing. His hair was damp; he must have bathed very recently, though he hadn’t used soap because Karl couldn’t detect the scent of the stuff Fenris usually used.
Maker. Fenris reminded him so much of Anders in that moment, though at the same time he was still very conscious of the differences between them.
“May I wrap my arms around you, Fenris?” he asked quietly after a while. “My arms ache and it would make this a bit easier to bear while we wait for the bucket heads to leave.”
Fenris glanced up at him, and Karl noted with surprise that, with the little light his flickering brands provided, they glowed a bright, piercing green.
“Bucket heads?” Came the elf’s slightly bemused reply.
“Circle slang,” Karl answered, shrugging as best as he was able under Fenris’ weight. “For templars. Sometimes we just shortened it to buckets. “Hey, the buckets are clanking this way! Hurry up and finish before you get caught!””
“Finish?”
“Wanking,” Karl finished. “Usually it was in the library, but there were other, less common places. There was more danger in the library though because it was patrolled the most often, and some of the younger apprentices who were learning their way around their bodies liked to see how fast they could do it. Anders used to hold the record for the longest time, though. We made it through almost three entire patrols once before we had to get it over with if we didn’t want to get caught.”
A beat of silence passed before Fenris whispered another question, this time being, “What happened when you were caught?”
When. Not if. Karl wondered if the elf knew he’d made that distinction.
“It depended on the Templar. Some were more lenient than others, and if you weren’t having penetrative sex then your punishment was usually anything from a slap on the wrist to cleaning the floors of the Chantry chapel with a bucket and a hand sponge to perhaps a skipped meal. If you were lucky, you were caught by another mage who might serve as a decent distraction if you needed just a little more time… but mostly you just had to be fast and quiet.”
“Unless you were Anders.”
“Maker, yes,” Karl huffed, trying to keep his laughter to himself. “Oh, the things he got up to. Most of them were with me, but sometimes you just took your pleasures where you could find them.” Karl finished with a soft sigh.
Eventually, Fenris shifted and he cleared his throat as softly as he could.
“Karl.”
“Yes?”
“You can… if you still need to, you can put your arms around me…”
Karl allowed himself a mental chuckle as he held the elf close. Eventually, Fenris stopped trembling and he relaxed against Karl’s chest. He was heavier than Anders despite his smaller size, but Karl found that he enjoyed the solid press of the elf’s weight against him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Fenris.”
Fenris huffed, as though he were about to disagree, but the elf merely relaxed against him further and the two of them listened to the Templars until they were certain they had left. The two of them crawled out of the bolthole sometime in the wee hours of the early morning, and they fixed up what they could of what had been damaged before collapsing together on one of the larger cots.
Until Anders and Hayden returned back from the Deep Roads with only Varric in tow, the two seemed unable to sleep alone, at which point even Fenris didn’t object to Karl’s request that Anders join them.
To Anders, it was strange coming from that hellhole of a trip and stumbling back into his clinic. For one, Fenris and Karl had developed a… was it a relationship? It was hard to tell. They certainly didn’t do the things with one another that Anders did with Karl.
From what Karl told him, there hadn’t even been a single kiss.
But there was something between them, and it was clear that it mattered very much not only to the elf, but to Karl.
“He reminds me of you, in a way,” was Karl’s explanation for it when Anders had asked him. “And yet… he is most definitely not you. There is still a part of him that remains wired to protect, while another wishes desperately to be protected.” Anders frowned. “Have you spoken to him about this?”
Karl shook his head. “I find that it is rarely useful to speak to Fenris about his feelings unless he is the one to initiate the conversation. As far as I know, Hayden is the only person who he has consistently done that with.”
Anders sat down next to Karl on the bed that they shared with Fenris. It was strictly for sleeping; if they wanted to have sex, the room Karl had originally claimed as his while Anders was away was where such things usually occurred. Fenris was currently away with Hayden on a trip to Sundermount, looking for some rare ingredient or something. Ironbark, Anders thought.
“Does… does he like Hayden? As in, romantically?”
Karl sighed, turning to stare intently at the floorboards. “There is definitely attraction there, what with how shamelessly Hayden flirts.” Karl’s lips twitched upwards in a half smile. “They flirt with you too, don’t they? Only not as much.”
“I… I like Hayden. Sometimes, sometimes when I can get Justice to give me enough time and space for a wank, I don’t always think of you.”
A chuckled huffed its way out of Karl’s lips.
“That’s understandable. Hayden is rather captivating. Though… I’m fairly certain you fantasize about Fenris too, if your dreams from the other night were of any indication.” Anders gasped and covered his mouth with one hand as though that might stop the flush of heat in his cheeks from spreading.
“What? Did… did Fenris hear?”
“I don’t believe so, but if he did, I’m positive that he would have confronted you about it.” Anders groaned, putting his head in his hands. “It’s not my fault they’re all so pretty…” He sat up and tried to physically shake off the residual embarrassment.
“Do you know what Hayden thinks of you?”
“Why do you ask?”
Anders flopped backwards against the sheets, and Karl shifted so that he could see Anders’ expressions.
“Because I think that even though Hayden seems very attracted to Fenris and myself, they feel like they’re trying to keep their distance because of you.”’
“Perhaps they’ve been behaving that way because they don’t know that a person can love more than one person at once?” Anders hummed softly in agreement. “Perhaps. Leandra is a strong woman and I get that she’s done her best to raise Hayden on her own since the death of her husband, but… even Hayden has told me before that she doesn’t quite have the broadest of world views, you know?”
Karl nodded sagely. “Yes, I think so too. But for now I think we should see if Hayden and Fenris intend to go further than flirting. As for what Hayden thinks of me… do you mean are they attracted to me?”
Anders stared up at the ceiling and nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen them looking at you before. Usually after you’ve shaved recently. Like they can’t keep their eyes off of you.” Karl huffed. “I’ve noticed that too. Perhaps I should flirt with them and see if they reciprocate?”
“Karl!”
“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
“Gentle. Right.”
Karl reached for one of his hands and held it until Anders’ gaze shifted to meet his. “Anders. If you would rather I not…”
“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with you flirting with someone else,” Anders said seriously, sitting back up again as he crossed his legs underneath him. “It’s more that Hayden is… I don’t know. Innocent?”
Karl snorted. “You haven’t been to cards in a while, have you? No, I think not… well, you haven’t heard the raunchy ribaldry that they come up with when Isabela starts singing tavern songs then. I think they are less innocent than they appear, Anders. Naive, perhaps. Idealistic. But definitely not innocent.”
“I just remember when you first started flirting with me after you got tired of my baiting you.”
“Oh. Well, if that’s what you’re afraid of, I’m sure they’ll be fine as long as you don’t go letting any rumors about my “monster dong” run about loose in Darktown. I merely want to see if they’re attracted to me and if they’re bold enough to flirt back.”
A chuckle rumbled its way out of Anders’ chest.
“Ah, yes. I remember those rumors. No, those are definitely going to stay in my head where they belong. So… I suppose it’s fine. And perhaps I should join you for cards later. You might have to talk Justice into letting me go.”
Karl winked at him and squeezed his hand gently.
“Consider it done,” he said.
So it was about a week later when Anders was busy working on his manifesto and Hayden was washing linens with Karl that he heard his lover call the younger healer “quite fetching in their new robes” that had Anders keenly listening for Hayden’s response.
“You’re quite fetching yourself, Karl,” Hayden chuckled with a nervous little lilt. “Anders is a very lucky man.”
“He doesn’t have to be the only lucky one…”
“Karl!” Hayden cried, and Anders heard them slap Karl with one of the still wet linens. Anders couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. Served him right.
“You know, my mother warned me about men like you,” Hayden flirted back, and Anders heard Karl laugh, low and throaty and damn if that one didn’t go straight to Anders’ cock. That was Karl’s “sounds like sex” laugh.
“Your mother couldn’t have warned you about men like me, because there are no men like me.” Hayden coughed, and Anders would’ve given anything to see their face in that moment. “I… I suppose not,” Hayden replied quietly, almost shyly. Anders was willing to bet good coin on their blushing right about now, with just a little color to their cheeks like a fine dusting of sugar powder on the little Orlesian cakes that Karl so loved to make.
Anders thought that Karl might say more, try to press Hayden’s buttons a little, but instead there was silence.
He couldn’t help but glance back at the two of them and saw Hayden smiling to themselves a little, that flush in their cheeks just as fine as Anders had thought it would be. Anders caught Karl’s gaze and when the force mage noticed him looking he flashed him a sheepish smile.
Anders merely shook his head and went back to work.
Well. So Hayden was a little attracted to Karl, at least. They still thought that perhaps they should let Hayden and Fenris figure things out between them before approaching them about… something. A relationship? Anders barely knew what he was doing with Karl, and they’d been together for a long time.
However, time and circumstance were not on their side, and there was to be a long string of unfortunate events that would inevitably force a series of conversations that all of them had been avoiding.
It all started with an arrow.
A warning arrow, shot from above a cliff-face, by a man declaring that Hayden was in possession of stolen property. Fenris, or so Anders assumed. However, Justice’s voice burned within him and he let the spirit come to the fore as they shouted together, “Fenris is a free man!” And they shot off a fireball in the slaver’s direction, starting a fight that ended with Fenris holding a half dead mage in his gauntleted fists against the blood spattered sand.
There was an interrogation, and Hayden glanced at Anders when a name was mentioned. Hadriana. And Fenris seemed to know who this person was.
“Has he mentioned that name to you?” Anders asked in a low voice. Hayden shook their head, wincing when Fenris crushed the heart of the slaver mage after he’d gotten the location of this Hadriana out of him.
“No. He talked about how he came to leave Danarius, but he’s never mentioned a Hadriana before…”
“I was a fool to think I was free!” Fenris swore, and Varric, who was also with them, got their attention before Fenris turned around, still fuming. “They’ll never let me be!”
“Who is this Hadriana?” Hayden asked, as thought they weren’t certain they wanted to know, but there was definite worry in their eyes. Hadriana was Danarius’ apprentice, and once Fenris said that, Hayden’s mind was made up.
“So we go after her. Show us these pens so we can catch her before she runs.”
They found the slaver pens, and had to slog through wave after wave of demons until they rescued the poor elf girl, Orana. Hayden tried to do the right thing and offer her a job in their estate, but Fenris was so riled up that he accused Hayden of wanting to become a magister before they were able to explain themselves clearly.
Anders wanted to hit him. Yell at him. But he could hear Karl’s voice in his head cautioning him to see past the elf’s anger and find the root of it.
He wished he were better at such things, but with Justice still swirling so close to the surface, he was finding it difficult to see past whatever walls Fenris had built up around him in his anger. He wished he were better at calming people down. Karl was good at that.
“What do you want, mage?” Fenris snapped, drawing Anders from his reverie.
Had he been staring? And where was Hayden? Scouting ahead?
“I… I want to help you.” Damn. Why did those words have to be the first things out of his mouth? Stupid, stupid. And of course, he kept going. “I know I’m shit at this, but please don’t take this out on Hayden. Um… shit. What the hell would Karl say? Damnit…”
Fenris stared at him, and his expression morphed from one of anger and frustration to… fear? Yes. Fear. Fear and regret.
“I don’t know how else to react, Anders. I… I’m…”
“I wish I could tell you it’s going to be alright,” Anders whispered, “but that’s probably a lie, so I won’t. But I still want to.”
“And I wish I could believe you.”
They were so close; Anders could see tiny flecks of yellow in the green of Fenris’ eyes. He noticed that Fenris’ eyebrows were black, and not the same white as the hair on his head. There were bits of dried blood splattered everywhere: on his armor and his skin, in his hair. There wasn’t any on his lips though, and Anders thought that if he angled his head just so...
“Blondie! Broody! We think we got her cornered!”
The two of them broke apart as their heads snapped around to see Varric waving at them from the doorway, but they shared a lingering look that made Anders wonder if Fenris didn’t hold some form of feelings for him too. Anders certainly couldn’t deny it any longer.
They slogged through more demons, more slavers. When they came to the apprentice herself, the fight was not as difficult as getting there had been, and the woman herself was not terribly remarkable.
Fenris’ fury, on the other hand… he had a clawed gauntlet in her chest before she could even say a word, and though she tried getting him to spare her life by telling him about the potential existence of a sister, Varania, her death was quick. Anders almost wished it could have been drawn out a little more, that Fenris had inflicted a little more pain… and he wasn’t entirely sure if that desire was his, Justice’s, or both.
“Do you… do you want to talk about this?” Hayden tried to ask, but Anders saw what Hayden could not: Fenris had just killed one of his tormentors and that… that did things to a person. Anders wasn’t sure what it was doing to Fenris, but calming down was the last thing on his mind as he rounded on Hayden and shouted, “No, I don’t want to talk about it!”
Hayden stiffened and their eyes widened as they backed up in fear. Anders rushed to support them before they tripped and hurt themselves.
Fenris ranted about how this entire set-up could be a trap (which was entirely possible–the Templars had set similar traps for Anders in the past), and that even if this sister was real then Danarius had to know that Hadriana knew of her, and therefore would still be suicide to try and find her!
Hayden stepped away from Anders and tried to approach Fenris again, with more confidence this time. “Fenris, surely that cannot be all–”
“All that matters is that I got to crush that bitch’s heart!” Fenris snapped. “May she rot and all the other mages with her.”
No. He didn’t just say that in front of–
“Then… maybe we should leave,” Hayden tried a third time. There was something off about their voice; a kind of coolness was present in it that Anders had never heard before, and yet Hayden’s expression was still one of concern even as they reached out with trembling fingers to try and touch Fenris’ shoulder. “Hayden, wait–” Anders tried to stop them, but it was too late.
Fenris threw off Hayden’s touch with a snarl and hissed.
“No! I don’t want you comforting me…”
Anders saw first the fear return to Fenris’ eyes, only for that fear to disappear behind his wall of fury. Then Hayden’s face, wracked with grief and frustration. There was something else there too: determination. Hayden seemed to see something in Fenris that Anders couldn’t, and Anders had to trust that they knew the right things to say.
Because Maker knew that Anders didn’t.
“Fenris, please,” Hayden insisted, as calmly as they possibly could, but Fenris still refused to see whatever reason Hayden kept trying to call him back to.
“You saw what was done here!” Fenris shouted, gesturing to the bodies of dead slavers and abominations and demon husks. “There’s always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this!”
“Damnit, Fenris!” Hayden shouted back at him, finally through with remaining patient. There were tears in their eyes and a flame of anger behind them as they advanced on the elf. “Did you forget what I am?” And suddenly Fenris’ face paled and he retreated, though his anger still simmered as glowing brand does when taken away from the flame.
“Hayden…” Fenris pleaded, voice cracking a little as he appeared to try to apologize with their name alone. “Even… even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What… what has magic touched that it does not spoil?”
Anders’ heart felt like it had dropped through his stomach and the floor, taking his stomach along with it.
Hayden’s eyes still glistened with unshed tears, but they refused to let them fall while they waited for Fenris to realize the gravity of the question he’d just asked. Yet, when it finally happened, Fenris seemed unable to handle the damage he’d done, and he could only just manage to quickly mutter, “I… I need to go,” before running off through the slaver pens and out into the night.
Hayden buried their hands into their hair and leaned against a nearby wall, sliding down until they were sitting on the floor amongst the slaver corpses and demon husks. Blood was splattered all over their robes, and their hair tie had fallen out somewhere, causing their hair to spill across their shoulders and in front of their face. Anders knelt next to them and touched their knee gently.
“Hayden?”
He wasn’t going to ask if they were alright. He knew they weren’t.
Hayden sighed deeply and looked up to meet Anders’ eyes.
“I… should go after him, shouldn’t I?” Anders blinked owlishly at Hayden. “Um… probably, yes.” He frowned, finding the question somewhat perplexing. “But why… why are you asking me? You’re the one who knows him better than all of us.” Hayden shook their head and huffed out another sigh, smiling sadly.
“But you and Karl live with him, don’t you?”
Karl. Karl would know what to do.
“Karl has this… connection with Fenris. He might know what to do.”
“Then I’ll go see if I can find him,” Hayden told him, getting up from the floor with Anders’ help. “You find Karl and if Fenris comes back to his mansion before I find him… please, tell him I’m worried about him. I want to help him.”
Which was funny, Anders thought, since they’d said the same thing to Fenris only moments prior to this disaster.
Fenris’ words has hurt Hayden, and had hurt them deeply.
But Hayden knew a little about why Fenris spoke and acted the way he did from talking with Fenris himself; his was definitely not a life of sunshine and roses. That was why they were so adamant about having Fenris talk about the fact that he’d just killed his former master’s apprentice instead of running off and trying to deal with the fallout on his own…
Not that that had turned out well, exactly, but Hayden was determined to find him and make sure he was alright before the night was through.
It proved strangely harder than they had originally thought to find a single elf in all of Kirkwall. Even Fenris’ extremely unique description brought up nothing until they reached the Hightown market stalls which were almost finishing packing up for the day.
An apple seller Hayden knew that Fenris frequented told them that the elf had been headed to the “old Amell estate”. Their estate. They felt almost stupid, thinking that Fenris would go anywhere else, but in the back of their mind they figured that perhaps they didn’t know Fenris as well as they thought they did.
And that stung a little, though the fact that Fenris had headed to the estate…
Perhaps they could help Fenris after all.
Fenris was waiting in the entrance hall when they arrived: head down, hands hanging loose between his knees, his feet flat against the floor but for the twitching of his toes. He started a bit when the door opened, and he was on his feet almost immediately as Hayden set their staff aside to greet him properly.
“I…” Fenris began slowly, still staring at the floor and wringing his hands. His… hands? Yes, Hayden noted, Fenris’ gauntlets had been removed and were sitting on the bench Fenris had been previously occupying. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana…” Fenris glanced up, and his shoulders tightened as though it were a struggle to meet their eyes.
“I took out my anger on you,” he confessed, ears slightly lowered and quivering. “Undeservedly so. I was… not myself. I’m sorry.”
Hayden sighed and was about to reach out to touch the elf when they remembered Anders’ warning when they had tried to comfort him in the slaver pens. They pulled their hand back at the last second and felt strangely awkward; not knowing what to do with their hands.
“I had no idea where you went,” Hayden finally muttered, thoroughly frustrated with themselves. “I was concerned.” They met Fenris’ eyes and their shoulders lowered with weary exhaustion.
“Can we sit? I feel like we should be having this conversation sitting…” They looked around. “Or… at least in private.”
Fenris looked away again.
“I find that I cannot sit still, I’m afraid. I was pacing shortly before you arrived. And I apologize for worrying you, but I needed to be alone.”
Hayden nodded slowly. “I wish I could say that I understand, but I am beginning to feel as though I don’t understand you as well as I thought I did. After all while I am flattered to find you here, waiting for my return, I spent a good amount of time looking for you elsewhere…”
Fenris ran a hand through his hair, which Hayden now noticed was still streaked with flecks of blood.
“Perhaps you might understand if I told you that as a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep–”
“Fenris,” Hayden sighed, “I appreciate you telling me these things, but I have not lived the life that you have. I cannot–” Fenris turned around and held up a hand. His face was pulled back in a snarl, but there was a deep pain in the elf’s eyes that made Hayden’s heart ache. “Because of her status, I was powerless to respond, and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now? I… I couldn’t let her go.”
Suddenly, understanding dawned upon Hayden.
“It… has been years since your escape. You… were able to claim your freedom and establish a life here, but… because the people who hurt you still lived, that hatred stayed with you.” Hayden lip quivered, and they tugged idly at some of their hair that had fallen over their shoulders.
“Well… holding a grudge isn’t a crime, Fenris,” they said soothingly. “It’s… it’s certainly not the most healthy of practices, but no one is going to judge you for that, you know?”
“I know!” Fenris hissed, backing away a little as he shook his head in what Hayden could only assume was an attempt to rid himself of some dark or disturbing thought. “I just… I thought I’d gotten rid of this hate inside me…” His hands curled in on himself, fingers prying at his armor like he could cast off his hatred by removing it, or perhaps they were trying to get at his own heart as though it were possible to dig out his hatred as one might a peach pit.
Eventually, he gave up and wrapped his arms around himself and sniffed wetly as he stared at the floor.
“…but it dogs me no matter where I go.”
Hayden walked forward a few steps until they stood but a hair’s breadth apart, Fenris looking up at Hayden with eyes full of unshed tears.
“To feel it again,” Hayden breathed, “knowing that it was they who planted that hatred inside of you… it was too much to bear, wasn’t it?” They let out a long exhale, causing several strands of Fenris’ bangs to flutter away from his face. “I feel terrible that this is eating away at you. I wish I could… that I could offer you more than my friendship, Fenris.”
Fenris blinked owlishly at Hayden and stepped back a little. Hayden noticed that the tips of the elf’s ears were flushed and his cheeks flooded with extra color to them as his breath hitched.
“I… I did not come to burden you,” he insisted.
Hayden shook their head forcefully. “Are you a burden to Anders and Karl? I doubt it that they think so.” They rubbed at their face before taking a breath and fixing Fenris with a serious yet tender stare. “The three of you are all that I think about, and often I can think of little else. It is hard enough sometimes to deal with just being the way I am, but then I find comfort in the support of the people I care for the most. If you can, please let me be one of those people for you, Fenris. Yet, if you cannot, you must tell me to cease pursuing you and I shall.”
Fenris was quiet for a long few breaths before he glanced up to meet their eyes.
“Anders… and Karl? They care for me?”
Hayden chuffed. “You let them into your bed did you not? Some part of you cares for them enough to trust them to let them so close. That may or may not even take into account the rapport that you’ve shared with Karl ever since Anders and I came back from the expedition, and Anders’ first thought after you left was that Karl might know what to do to help you. They care, I promise you.”
“And… so do you?”
“I want to,” Hayden whispered, moving in close again. “But only with your consent. Command me to go and I shall, Fenris.”
Fenris frowned. “I doubt that I could command you to do anything, regardless of what I wanted..”
“Fenris,” Hayden stressed. “Please. May I hold you, if only for a moment?”
Something shifted in Fenris face and he nodded, the movement so slight that Hayden almost missed it. But they did not, and they took the elf into their arms, armor and all, and held them tightly against their chest, the fingers of one hand threading into silky white hair while the other was wrapped around the elf’s waist, holding him tight yet not so tight as to be oppressive.
Fenris practically melted against Hayden after a heartbeat of tension. A low purr stuttered to life from somewhere in the elf’s throat, and the two of them just stood there for what felt like an eternity before Hayden cleared their throat as quietly as they could to get Fenris’ attention.
“Would you like to go home now?” they asked, and Fenris sighed deeply.
“I… find that I do not, but the hour is late. And if Anders and Karl care for me as much as you say, they will be worried. Yet I strangely do not wish to be parted from you.”
Hayden chuckled softly. “I could tell my mother that I won’t be home tonight, and perhaps I could join the three of you for an evening?”
Fenris seemed to perk up a little at that. “You… would you really?”
“Just to sleep, mind,” Hayden said, yawning. “All that running about today… really tired me out. I ache everywhere.”
Fenris hummed noncommittally. “Anders is… very good with his hands. He could help you with that, if you wished, and I would very much like you to… to stay for the night if that is what you mean.”
Hayden smiled at him, and asked him to wait a few moments more before they informed Leandra that they wouldn’t be coming back until morning before they left with Fenris for the mansion he occupied with Anders and Karl.
Upon arriving, the two other mages had been deep in conversation but were surprised when the door opened and Fenris walked into the room with Hayden trailing not far behind. Karl stood first and eyed them, looking to Fenris and then to Hayden. He cleared his throat.
“Anders told me what happened,” he said in a low, soothing tone. “Or at least everything that happened that he knows about.” He walked over to Fenris and offered a hand to the elf. “Come sit? There’s stew. I know you’re probably tired, but you should eat before we go to bed.”
“Hayden is staying the night,” Fenris mumbled, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. A single grey eyebrow rose as he glanced in Hayden’s direction, and Hayden nodded in answer to the unspoken question.
“Yes, my mother knows I won’t be home this evening. No, she doesn’t know that I am here.” Their lips quirked up in a wry smile and they added, “And she doesn’t need to know. Besides, she might have a fit if she did, and I have to think of her health after all.”
Anders chuffed. “You’re such a good child, worrying about their mother.”
A chuckle rumbled its way out of Hayden’s chest. “Right. Worry. Yes, let’s go with that, shall we? I’m totally not here because I want to spend a night with the three people I care about, nope.”
Karl merely sighed and shook his head as Fenris took his hand gingerly and they all sat down on the rug in front of the fire.
Hayden had sat down next to Fenris and Karl, and Anders sat next to them. The room was quiet for a long time but for the sounds of stew slurping and spoons clinking against the bottom of bowls as the fire crackled. Hayden felt strangely warm, but it wasn’t from the heat of the flames. Rather, their heart felt full and heavy with a feeling they could not name, but it was not an uncomfortable feeling. Actually, it felt as though they had finally come home for the first time since fleeing Lothering from the Blight.
From that night forward, things were different. There were things that tried to tear them apart, like Ser Alirk’s “Tranquil Solution” where Anders almost killed a mage girl, Fenris’ own memories resurfacing and disappearing after the first time he and Hayden had sex, and... the horrific death of Hayden’s mother. All of these happened even before the Arishok decided that they’d been in Kirkwall for long enough and attempted to raze the city to the ground...
...resulting in Hayden becoming Champion.
Suddenly, everyone wanted them, wanted their love, their time, their attention... but Hayden only had eyes for Anders, Fenris, and Karl. These three had brought warmth into their heart in a place where they had only expected coldness... and they made them feel like they had a home again in the face or all they had lost.
