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One petal, two petals, three petals, four
Don’t stop to wonder, don’t wait for more.
Five petals, six petals, seven petals, eight
Find your beloved before it’s too late
Nine petals, ten petals, not another on your breath,
Love never found you, only your death.
The passage was filled with dead dragonlings, gore, screeches of pain, and battle cries. Anders kicked a dead dragonling off his staff and gestured at one near Hawke. Hawke laughed gleefully and rammed his shield into the now frozen dragonling. Anders was about to check on Isabela when Fenris went flying past him.
“Mage! Behind you!”
Fenris’ words had Anders’ spinning, hand out, frost spell at the ready. The dragonling screeched in pain, snout frozen. Blood sprayed in an arc as Fenris’ sword took the dragonling at the neck. Anders reached up, hand shaky, and wiped the blood from his face.
“Thank you. I think.”
Fenris stepped in close and swiped at a patch of blood dripping down Anders’ nose. Anders’ eyes grew round as Fenris grinned.
“You look a bit like Hawke there, Mage. Delusions of being a warrior?”
“Haha. If you are referring to his inability to see traps before stepping in them, then no. I have no such delusions.”
“Are you sure, Mage? He also misses the rogues sneaking up on him.”
Fenris chuckled and stepped away to check on Hawke and Isabela. Anders watched as he nudged a dead dragonling with his sword. Hawke grinned and knocked shoulders with Fenris. Fenris shied away from Hawke, turned, and glanced back at Anders before stepping over the dead dragonling.
Anders’ breath caught in his chest, and he turned away to hunch and cough. The cough was deep, a bronchial rasp that burst from him. He reached out with his magic and found nothing wrong with himself. He coughed again and spit when he felt something on his tongue.
A single petal of crystal grace floated from his lips to land next to a puddle of blood. Anders bent down and picked it up, the petal soft and fragrant against his fingers. He glanced back at Fenris and then down at the petal.
He shoved the petal into his coat pocket and swallowed. He could feel the slight heaviness in his chest, his breath catching before smoothing out. But he also felt his heart warm. The longer he stared at Fenris, the warmer he felt. Despair warred with sudden elation - he was in love.
***
There was always a crush at the clinic after Anders went on a job with Hawke. The sick lined up to patiently wait their turn to see him in the hopes that he could cure them of whatever was making them sick. Broken bones, the augue, choke damp, knife wounds, consumption - Anders saw it all on a daily basis.
The worst, though, were those who came staggering in with blue lips and sad eyes. They would sink down on a cot and simply wait. Anders never needed to ask what was wrong. They’d cough and bloody flower petals would spill from their lips, trail over their chin, and fall to land on their folded hands.
He never asked them if they were sure; he just pressed one hand to their chest and one to their back to remove the inflammation, quiet the lungs, heal the damage, and remove the vestiges of a broken heart. They’d leave with downturned eyes and slumped shoulders. They would live, but always with the knowledge that the person they loved hadn’t returned their affection.
Usually, Anders felt a pang of jealousy for them. Even if their love had not been returned, they had felt it. It had been so long since he’d last felt the warmth of love, that giddy happiness of affection. Ever since he had released Karl from Tranquility, his chest had felt numb. Even the camaraderie of his friends wasn’t enough to make him feel more than a sliver of happiness.
When his knife had pierced Karl’s chest, his own heart had bled. He’d staggered back to his clinic, the early morning light just beginning to brighten the sky, and had healed the damage. Since that morning, he had felt empty. His heart had sat cold in his chest.
Till now. Fenris had wormed his way into Anders’ heart. Somehow, they had found a solid footing of friendship. Somehow, they had managed to look past their differences enough to see some of the similarities that existed between them. It made the jobs with Hawke easier for everybody, but it also made Anders see Fenris as more than a rival, more than a bitter man who refused to see beyond Anders’ magical abilities. It made him see Fenris. And now he was in love with him.
Anders knew he should heal himself. A simple spell would remove the blossom of love but it would also numb him again. His heart, once so cold, was starting to feel warm. Happiness thrummed through him. The sweet, sharp pain of new love bloomed, and he didn’t want to kill it. There was no guarantee he would find this again. Not in Kirkwall, not as an apostate on the run.
He coughed and another petal slipped past his lips. He caught it before it could float too far away and slid it into his coat pocket with the other one. He knew that he had a purpose here in Kirkwall, a worthy goal, but for the first time in nearly five years, Anders didn’t care. He was in love.
***
“Hey Anders!” Hawke’s voice called to him from the door to his clinic. It had been two days since the dragonlings on the coast, and Anders had been expecting Hawke to show up. The man just wasn’t capable of staying out of trouble for more than a day. Two days was pushing the limit of propriety with Hawke.
“What is it this time? Bone Pit? Bandits? Qunari?” Anders wiped his hands on a cloth and smiled.
“I can’t just come down here to visit my favorite healer?”
“Your only healer?”
“You wound me. That’s hurtful. As if I wouldn’t come down here to simply enjoy your company.” Anders stared at him with a blank stare and Hawke laughed. “Alright fine. The Qunari had some sort of chemical stuff stolen. Not gaatlok, but something else. They said the stuff can drive people mad. Up for helping me find it before Kirkwall goes even more ass over ears?”
“Sure, Hawke...sure. Why not? It’s not like I was busy.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
“Always can…”
Words that would linger with Anders while they fought through a poisonous fog. His breath caught in his throat, itchy and heavy. He coughed and hoped nobody saw the small cloud of petals that puffed from his lips. They were tinged with pale pink blood around the edges. Anders closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest. His lungs were bleeding from the poison.
Fenris coughed, the sound a raspy rattle. Anders hesitated before stumbling over to him and casting his healing spell on Fenris instead. Fear had his breath backing further into his lungs. Fenris bent over, coughing so hard he staggered. Bloody spittle pattered to the ground. Anders pressed his hand firmly to Fenris’ back and pushed the last of his healing into him. Fenris shuddered and inhaled, then exhaled. The rattle slowly disappeared, and Fenris stood and nodded his thanks, frowning when he got a good look at Anders’ face.
“Heal yourself.”
“Later. We’re almost done. I’ll be fine.” Anders waved away the concern, even though his voice rasped and broke. His hand that had touched Fenris’ back tingled - a warmth that traveled up his arm to lodge in his chest.
“Your face is grey,” Fenris said, eyes narrowing on his face.
“After. It’s nothing..”
“You used the last of your mana on me, you mean.”
“I’ll be fine. You’re needed more than I am for this fight. Go help Hawke stop that crazed woman before she gets away. I’ll be fine.”
Fenris stared at him, turned, and rushed to help Hawke. Anders coughed again and covered his mouth before the petals could spew from his lips. His lungs burned, but as he watched Fenris gracefully leap into battle, his heart sang.
***
Day five. Anders kept count on a little pad of paper under his manifesto. He moved across the clinic slowly and carefully. He was starting to tire quickly now. If he moved too fast, he would cough. Coughing made his body hurt.
But oh, the feelings of love were growing stronger. When he closed his eyes, he could see Fenris smiling at him. Like he had last night during guy’s night at his home. Anders daydreamed about the green of Fenris’ eyes, doodled the shape of his ears, sighed over his strength.
Justice was unhappy with all of it. Anders could feel anxiety growing every moment he spent mooning instead of working. But nothing seemed as important as enjoying the fleeting moments of feeling love. Feeling warm...alive…
It had been so long since Karl and he. So long since he had last been held with tenderness, shared an inside joke, felt safe in another’s arms. He’d spent the last several years simply existing and now...every flower petal that slipped past his lips reminded him that he had found love. And if Fenris never returned it? Well, Anders would still cherish the moments of feeling alive.
He looked up as the door to his clinic slammed open, and Hawke dragged in a bloody, unconscious Fenris.
“Maker! What happened!”
“Slavers. We won, but he took a nasty hit from some bitch named Hadriana. She was trying to distract him with talk of a sister. She hit him with a spell.”
“Is she still alive?”
“No. Fenris pulled her heart out. But then he collapsed and started bleeding and...”
Anders ignored the heaviness of his lungs and the sudden squeeze of his heart. Hawke gently brushed Fenris’ hair away from his face and murmured soft words. Fenris stirred and reached up to grasp Hawke’s wrist. He held it in place while staring up at Hawke, his lips moving. Hawke bent closer and nodded, his fingers still dragging slowly through Fenris’ hair. Suddenly, it felt like every breath was filled with shards of glass.
The pain radiated from Anders’ heart to his fingertips. “I need to grab something from the back. Keep him awake.”
He rushed from the room and bent double as the pain burst. A cascade of petals poured from his lips. He swallowed, choking a little on a petal stuck in his throat. He didn’t know what hurt worse, his lungs or his heart. Watching Hawke touch Fenris with such warmth...what could he possibly give Fenris that Hawke couldn’t match? Hawke was a warrior, a respected man in Kirkwall, free and able to give Fenris a safe life. Anders was an apostate who lived in the sewers.
The pain swelled again and then settled. Even this, he thought as Justice seethed in the back of his mind. Even this was worth it. This pain, this longing, this anguish. Such emotion. Such...feeling...after years of cold numbness. He couldn’t be Hawke, but he could heal Fenris and give him comfort and life. And maybe, that could be enough.
He gave himself a minute to settle, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes and breathing slowly. When he could stand without hunching over and move without coughing, he headed back out to heal Fenris.
***
Anders didn’t want to be at the Hanged Man. He didn’t want to see the drunkards groping each other, hear the harsh laughter and harsher heckling. He didn’t want to smell the vomit, the booze, the body odors.
He wanted to be home in his bed with his thoughts, but he knew he had limited time left. Soon, he’d be unable to leave his tiny cubby of a room. Soon, he’d be left gasping on his bed while he slowly suffocated. He didn’t want that to happen before he saw his friends. He wanted to watch Fenris laugh one last time. He wanted to see how it felt to be around people who loved him, now that he could feel love again.
And they did love him. All in their own way. Merrill had brought him tea in a little capped jar that she had carefully wrapped with cloth to keep it warm. Varric bought him dinner, waving away all excuses with a wide smile. Aveline asked how Darktown was, if he was safe, if the people he saw were doing any better. Isabela hugged him, hard. Her eyes were knowing and sad. She didn’t say a word, just pressed a kiss to his cheek and trailed fingers over his shoulder. Hawke laughed and wrapped an arm around him before he took a seat next to Fenris. And Fenris. Fenris stared at him and nodded, a small smile brightening his face.
The love from the group felt amazing, warm and comforting - like the fluffiest blanket on a cold night. But sitting there, in a room so filled with life, was hard. Eight days in and his breathing rattled in his chest. Every inhale hurt. Every exhale tickled over his throat. He waved away the concern and blamed an augue that was hitting Darktown hard. He was gentle with their concern and tried to keep his coughing to a minimum. He covered his mouth with a cloth and hid every bloody petal that came up.
Across the table, Hawke kept leaning over to chat with Fenris, and Fenris kept leaning away to keep space. Anders watched as Hawke’s hand came up to brush back a lock of hair from Fenris’ face. Fenris batted away the hand and grumbled at Hawke, who laughed and nudged Fenris’ shoulder. Fenris raised an eyebrow at Hawke and shoved him hard enough to have Hawke knock sideways into Isabela. Hawke simply laughed.
He wanted to stand and tell Hawke to quit it. He wanted to ask Merrill to move so that Fenris could sit next to him instead. He wanted...
The cough had him hanging his head and pressing his cloth over his mouth. His shoulders shook, his body shuddered, his hands went numb, and his eyes teared up. His face went bright red and then pale white.
Hawke straightened and tisked at Anders. “Shoulda stayed home. None of us want that augue, do we?”
“Hawke,” Isabela said. “Leave him be. I’m glad he came tonight for even a little bit.”
“You talk like he wouldn’t be able to come next week.”
Isabela glared at Hawke, and Anders spoke up before she could give away his secret. “You would have just bothered me ‘til I showed up.”
“Go home, Anders. Sleep,” Varric said. “You made an appearance. You can get some rest now.”
Anders nodded, glanced at Fenris, who was watching him with worry on his face, and then stood. “I..I think you’re right, Varric. Night all. It was good to see you.”
“Is he alright?” He heard Merrill ask as he shuffled from the room.
“Probably just needs to sleep.” Hawke’s voice was low and suddenly filled with worry.
Anders didn’t hear what Fenris said.
***
Anders had to admit that dying in Darktown still beat dying in the Deep Roads. He lay on his cot and stared up at the ceiling, gasping for air and shuddering when more petals were forced from between his lips. Justice railed at him to heal himself, to get up, to cease this. Anders ignored him.
He wanted to die on his terms, nobody elses’. Not even Justice’s. He felt a pang of guilt. Justice would die with him. Or maybe he’d be free and back in the Fade. Either way, he was leaving their work unfinished.
But this...the warm blossom of love in his heart...was more important than the mages could ever be. He closed his eyes and thought of Fenris and sank into the happy thoughts. Another cough tore through him, more bloody petals.
Fenris…
Anders smiled, the blood smearing over his too-pale lips. His eyes were blood-shot from the force of his coughing. His nose bled. His body shook from cold and lack of oxygen - slowly suffocating under the weight of the love he carried in his heart.
So much love. So much emotion caught up in himself. He wanted to give it to Fenris. He wanted to feel what it would be like to have his love accepted now...outside of the Circle, away from the Wardens. Love on his terms. Love that didn’t need to be hidden, didn’t need to feel shame or fear.
He was at least dying having felt love while mostly free. It was a choice he wanted to make, he had made. And no matter how much Justice pleaded with him, he couldn’t step back from this now.
He wondered if they would mourn him. He wondered if somebody would step in to fill his shoes. He wondered if Fenris would see a cat and think of him. Or would he be forgotten.
There was a shuffle of feet over dirt. Anders opened his eyes at the sound. He had closed the clinic and locked the doors. The lantern was unlit. Nobody should be in the clinic. Nobody should be walking back to his room.
The curtain was brushed aside and then Fenris stepped in. He stared at Anders, face solemn, eyes wide. Anders wanted to reach for him, he wanted to pull him close and hold onto him. He wanted so badly to just have one more chance to tell Fenris.
The cough tore through him with vicious strength. Petals burst from him in a cloud of bloody mist. He heard a pained gasp from Fenris and the shush of feet come closer. He couldn’t focus on anything else then, just the pain of breathing and his body struggling against the slow weight of his breaking heart.
Not long now. Moments. Heartbeats. Maybe only a few more of these agonizing breaths before peace. He opened his eyes again, determined that Fenris’ face would be the last thing he saw.
Fenris was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering over his cheek. He brushed over the rough scruff, down to his chin, and then over his lips. He wiped away the blood and spittle and flower petals. His touch was so soft, so tentative. So gentle.
“Fenris…” The word came out broken. He couldn’t get enough air to try again. He struggled to, swallowing desperately while staring up into Fenris’ eyes. He had to say the words. He had to tell him. He had to…
The brush of Fenris’ fingers were replaced with the warmth of lips. Fenris pressed his, chastely, to Anders’. A simple thing, a mere touch, a light breath shared that pushed past Anders’ chapped lips.
And for the first time in ten days, Anders could breathe. He inhaled and his lungs expanded. He exhaled, and his breath whooshed out free of petals. Free of blood. Free of pain.
Fenris was hovering over him, his eyes still wide, his ears tinged pink, his fingers trembling against Anders’ cheek. He saw it then - the love shining in Fenris’ eyes. He saw shyness. He saw fear. But he saw love there too. Overflowing like the tears sliding down Fenris’ face. Like the ones sliding down his.
“I thought…” Fenris’ voice broke. “I thought I would be too late.”
Fenris wiped away a tear and leaned back down to press another chaste kiss to his lips and this time, Anders reached for him and did the one thing he had been longing to do - he pulled him into a hug.