Chapter Text
Anonymous gift exchanges were usually the bane of Anders’ holiday experience. Usually a chance to torture himself over what to give someone without being able to just ask them what they want or need. But after the initial dread that washed over him as he stared at the scrap of paper with Fenris’ name on it subsided, Anders realized the opportunity this presented. Finally, in some small way, he could connect with the elf in a manner that wouldn’t end in a fight. Anders knew he had a bit of a weakness for intense people. Karl’s passion and courage in the circle is what drew him to the man. Anders was drawn to Fenris in much the same way, it’s what made him continuously engage with him. But the fighting was so tiring. He just wanted to make him smile. Just once.
Maker, he hoped he wouldn't screw this up.
Satinalia was only a couple weeks away and Anders knew he would have to act quickly. He thought maybe a weapon or some good equipment would be appreciated, Fenris was a practical man after all. But… Anders would catch the way Fenris would flinch a bit whenever Hawke would good naturedly refer to him as “the muscle”. While their friend didn’t mean anything by the title, Fenris was more than that. He was thoughtful and articulate. He would stare for long moments at the various sculptures and paintings at the chantry and Anders could often hear him speaking quietly with Sebastian about faith.
It was sort of an unspoken understanding that Fenris was just learning to read, but judging by his growing collection of books he was picking it up fairly quickly. Anders had noticed however, that there were no books in Tevene scattered around the decaying mansion. Certainly reading in his first language would be easier to pick up. And while Fenris’ relationship with his homeland was tricky at best, it very much remains a part of him as much as the circle is a part of Anders.
Anders considered it providence when a merchant ship with Tevinter imports found port in Kirkwall for the winter. Even more so when they also happen to have a huge collection of books for sale. Anders’ Tevene was not great, but when he stumbled on what appeared to be a book of poetry, he knew the maker had smiled upon him. A conversation with the merchant revealed the verses were actually all written by elves and Anders knew it was the perfect book. Certainly something written from the perspective of Fenris’ own people wouldn’t offend.
It was probably a bit forward, all things considered, to press a rose between the pages of one entry that seemed to use the word “love” a lot, but Anders has ways been a bit of a romantic at heart and there was something incredibly romantic about a secret admirer. Not that anything could ever come of the unfortunate attraction Anders felt. He was no fool. Attempting a relationship with the elf would be disastrous for both of them. But the parts of himself that held onto the frivolous man he was before he joined with Justice, the charmer, the flirt, wanted to recapture that sense of the chase. Call it a character flaw.
Everyone had agreed to drop off gifts early at Hawke’s to keep it anonymous. Bodahn accepted Anders’ gift for Fenris with his usual good cheer. Anders liked the man, it was interesting to hear about his travels with Cousland during the blight and there was something comforting about coming all the way to the Free Marches and meeting someone with a mutual friend. He didn't stop to talk however, lest he get caught dropping off his gift.
He took the back streets to Darktown, dodging Carta along the way. He didn't like that Varric was paying for his safety, but he supposed it was better than the alternative. Not that Anders would, or could, buy them off. But literal fire fights in Darktown would have the Templars on his door faster than he could say “apostate”.
Making it safely back to his clinic, he washed up and dressed as carefully as he could. It wasn't going to be a large party; The Champion’s Gala was the night before. And admittedly schadenfreude made Anders wish he could have witnessed Hawke spend an entire night dodging marriage proposals. But even though it was only going to be a gathering of close friends and family, Anders still didn't want to show up looking like he had just….well...crawled out of a sewer. He combed his hair and gave himself a proper shave for a change. In the back of his mind he was thinking of water waste, the flu going around, and how suicide attempts often went up on holidays. He silenced the intrusive thoughts with a pointed “what’s the point of freedom if I don't allow myself to live as well?” One of his young patients had made him a Satinalia mask in the shape of a cat from scraps of paper and while it was crude and lopsided it was so cute he had to wear it for the day.
It was dark by the time he made his way back up to Hightown. Hawke's neighbors had grown accustomed to the odd visitors the man gets, but Anders still tried to keep his head down and look as innocent as he could as he made his way to his friend’s estate. It never truly got cold in Kirkwall, not like it did in Ferelden. The nights were cold and misty, odd fog would seep out of the sewers carrying the smell of decaying ocean detritus, but it never snowed.
Revelers were still out from the day’s festivities, Hightown denizens in bright fine clothing and detailed masks, but just as drunk and disorderly as the regulars at the Hanged Man. Anders paid them no mind, not even the young men who openly laughed at his cat mask. At least he tried not to until one of them decided to cut him off waving his purse in Anders’ face. “Serah I must have that mask! I’ll gladly pay for it!” His friends stood back, laughing at their own cleverness.
Maker’s ass was he ever that stupid when he was young? Anders put up his hands in a halting gesture “I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own Ser. Difficult, I know. The coloring is actually inside the lines on this one, but I’m sure if you’re careful you’ll get it mostly right.”
The young man’s expression fell. He seemed to have gathered that he was being insulted, but couldn’t quite figure out where. Anders didn’t give him the chance to figure it out before he walked past him. He wouldn’t be deterred however and grabbed Anders by the shoulder to keep him from getting away. On reflex Anders shrugged his shoulder out of reach and shoved the boy away from him. He had to stop himself from pulling from the fade, a fireball in the middle of a busy square full of guards watching for fights would not go unnoticed.
Outraged, the boy began to shout, “How dare you lay a hand on me! Do you know who I am?!”
“Yes Anders, don’t you know the city fool becomes ruler for the day on Satinalia?” A low, deep accented voice cut the boy off from any further protests. Fenris squared up beside Anders. He had foregone his armor but still carried his sword with him. The falcon mask he wore made him all the more intimidating. He was followed closely by Sebastian in plain, but clearly fine dress and a fox mask.
Now that Anders had friends, in as much either of them could be considered friends, the young men seemed to reconsider their game. But the one that had confronted him had committed to showing his ass for the night and decided that shortest meant least threatening and rounded on Fenris instead. He was apparently not good at context clues.
“And do you expect me to be intimidated by some filthy knife ear?”
Really bad at them, in fact.
Fenris however, just stared at him in his unnervingly still way that was all the more unsettling with the mask he wore. “You should go” he said simply. “These streets are not as safe as you think at night and the holiday will make the desperate bold.”
The young man stepped back, clearly startled. He recovered quickly however and put on airs as though he hadn’t started the ridiculous farce in the first place. “This is beneath me. Crawl back to Lowtown where your kind belongs.” Turned on his heels and walked back to his friends. As they wandered off towards the Blooming Rose one of them could be heard saying, “Are you an idiot? You could have been killed.”
Their own group finally started towards Hawke’s when Sebastian finally spoke up, “Ah to be young and prone to poor judgement.” His tone took on the ever so wonderful condescending manner that made Anders’ teeth grind. “Anders, you really should know better than to pick a fight with someone barely into manhood.”
“He picked a fight with me,” Anders replied irritably. “And I didn’t see you try to help the situation any.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Throwing in myself would have only escalated the situation. I knew Fenris wouldn’t hurt the boy, and he clearly knew he was outmatched.”
“Spoken like a true Andrastian. Do nothing and then praise the Maker when the blood doesn’t get on your boots.”
Sebastian made a show of rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Not every little thing is a life or death struggle.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Some dumb kids decide to harass me over a stupid paper mask and if I try to defend myself from a group on one, I get arrested and made tranquil for apostasy.”
Fenris took the opportunity to cut in with “Where did you get that mask? Did a patient make it?”
Left off balance from the sudden shift in topic Anders could only sputter “Yes. A little girl in Darktown made it while I was setting her broken leg. I gave her some paper and talked to her about cats to get her mind off the pain.”
“Hm. Cute.” The finality with which Fenris said this ended the conversation and the trio lapsed into silence as they continued on to Hawke’s manor.
Anders’ heart did a funny flip. Sometimes it seemed Fenris and he may actually learn to get along. Which would be nice. In spite of the moods that had been overtaking him, Anders did recognise that he needed more friends. Things started to get hazy for him whenever he went too long without meaningful contact with other people. And in honesty, even when they fought, talking to Fenris made him feel much more… human.
The challenge in their arguments, the odd sense of camaraderie during fights as they supported each other, even losing what little extra money he had to the elf in cards all grounded him a bit. Hawke was always a bit indulgent about Anders’ situation with Justice. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the man’s curiosity, his generous nature, or because he also believed in the cause for mages. Varric seemed to do his level best to treat it like a joke, as if making light of it would make it less serious. And no one else in their odd little group really liked him. He knew he could be difficult, but it did sting a bit. He had thought of Isabela as a friend once, but she had made it clear that she didn’t think much of him anymore. Fenris offered him some sorely needed levity. Neither of them were particularly good at tact which led to their fights, but the connection was the important part and it was undoubtedly there.
And he understood. He was the only one of them who could understand what it is they’ve gone through.
They made it to Hawke’s without further incident. Bodahn greeted them in a nug mask and Leandra, ever the lady, welcomed them to her home in a full swan costume. The party was already in full swing, Hawke was bouncing between people like a toddler that had eaten too many sweets. Merrill was practically sitting on Bethany’s lap, drink in hand, as they both giggled uncontrollably at whatever Varric was telling them. Isabela had Carver and Sandal at a table playing cards. Aveline and Donnic had gone off to a semi-private corner to be disgustingly cute at each other.
Hawke, finally noticing the last of his guests had arrived came bounding towards them with all the grace and enthusiasm of a marbari. He adjusted his bear mask to smile fully at his friends. “You made it! I was about to track the three of you down and drag you here.”
Sebastian bowed his head slightly and greeted “A happy Satinalia to you Hawke. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”
“Happy Satinalia, Sebastian!” Hawke replied brightly. “Please get something to drink and relax,” he motioned to a long table that was set up in the main room where various refreshments had already been set out, “we’ll start the proper feast soon and then --WHAT ARE YOU CARRYING?” Hawke cut himself off as he led them into the room. He quickly crossed the room where Orana had come from the kitchen with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. He took the tray from her and Anders could just hear him insist that she enjoy her night off. Anders smiled to himself. Hawke was a good man.
Anders wandered over to where Isabela and Carver were teaching Sandal diamondback. He pulled up a chair and watched for a bit. Isabela wasn’t really playing so much as helping Sandal cheat Carver out of all his gold. Carver took in stride though, even smiled as he paid out. Anders declined to being dealt in, didn’t want to touch any game of cards Isabela was in, really, but it was companionable which was almost surprising. Carver really toned down after joining the Wardens.
He missed them. Sometimes.
Shortly, Leandra and Hawke came out carrying the main courses and spread them out on the banquet table. Everyone served themselves and soon the close knit group was talking and laughing again. Anders sort of sat back and watched them. He just didn’t have much to say. He glanced over to where Hawke sat, watching the family he accumulated over the years with a content smile on his face. Anders watched as Leandra walked over to her son and placed a kiss on the crown of his head. He looked up and smiled and murmured something quietly to her.
Anders’ heart warmed at the scene. Sometimes he felt truly blessed to be considered part of the odd family centered around Hawke. He was… a remarkable man. Anders sometimes hated himself over the missed opportunity he had all those years ago when Hawke was just another refugee trying to make his way. He was reminded of how long missed that opportunity was when Isabela sauntered over and sat in Hawke’s lap. Anders averted his eyes to give them privacy, but still flinched a little when he heard Hawke’s laughter boom from where he sat.
Anders busied himself by picking at his food, but was soon struck with the feeling he was being watched. He glanced up and made eye contact with Fenris. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. These odd moments between himself and Fenris happened occasionally. Anders would withdraw from the group conversation, lost in his own thoughts, usually. He would feel someone watching him and when he looked up Fenris would be staring at him with the same intensity he did everything else. At first Anders had thought Fenris was judging him or waiting for Anders to change into a monster or something. It would grate him and he had snapped at him in the past over it. But as time wore on, and the less Fenris took the bait to start a fight, the more tolerant Anders became to it. Whatever the elf was looking for when he stared at him, it wasn’t meant maliciously and that was good enough for Anders.
Soon everyone had eaten their fill and the group sat in a circle to hand out gifts. It was Varric’s idea to do an anonymous exchange. Likely to save some of the less wealthy of their group a bit of embarrassment at not being able to afford gifts for everyone. Or maybe Varric just didn’t want to buy gifts for everyone. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.
Hawke, being the host, set things off by opening his first. It was a smallish box and when he opened it his expression shifted into a chagrined smile. He then looked at Isabela and said “You did this.”
Isabela, with her fakest look and voice of confusion placed her hand on her chest with a flourish. “Why Hawke, whatever could you mean?”
Hawke pulled his gift from the box and held it up for all to see that he had been given what was unmistakably a dildo. “Only you would put a dick in a box for me to whip out in front of my mother,” he pointed the dildo at Leandra who as demurely as possible placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. He then directed the dildo towards a horrified Carver and Bethany who was doubled over hiding her face and turning very red,”my younger siblings.” And finally he gestured towards Bodahn and Sandal, “and my Sandal.”
Sandal, aware of being addressed, replied “Enchantments?”
Hawke, getting that manic grin on his face that he always gets when he’s about to do something particularly Hawke-like, turned to the young dwarf. “Sandal you brilliant little maniac, that’s a great idea!”
The group could no longer hold back their collective humor and it burst out in a mix of laughter and horrified shouts, the latter particularly from Carver who looked like he could never look at his brother again. When Anders finally regained himself a bit he called over the din “Hawke I swear if you scorch your asshole I am not treating you!” The laughter continued until Carver finally pleaded for them to move on, but Anders still caught Isabela winking at Hawke who returned the gesture with an exaggerated waggling of his eyebrows.
Leandra opened her gift next, an elegant bracelet of dwarven design. She gasped when she pulled it out and immediately put it on, saying it was “quite lovely.” They continued in a circle with Bodahn going next and receiving a bottle of very good Antivan Brandy. Sandal received a box of carefully made sweets in the shape of little runes. And so on.
A particularly memorable gift was when Sebastian opened his gift to reveal several small boxes inside. Each box contained a little figurine of intricate design. Merrill in her excitement for the gift and quite forgetting that this was meant to be anonymous, explained, “They’re supposed to be teaching aids to help you teach children about Andraste! You open each box and it contains a figure in the story and you explain the figure as you’re telling the story. Open the last one!” Sebastian smiled fondly at the figurines, each one was unique and beautifully crafted.
He did as she told him and opened the final box to reveal a delicately carved figure of Andraste on a pyre. “Oh…” Sebastian’s good breeding managed to pull a somewhat convincing smile, “how lovely.”
Merrill, and at this point Anders couldn’t help but notice the deliberate sharpness of her smile, directed Sebastian further, “Touch the little rune on the bottom!”
Dazed, Sebastian touched the rune and the figure immediately burst into a small flame. His eyes widened and he stared in disbelief at the little burning figure in his hand. The only thing he could manage to say was a vague “Well look at that, it really burns.”
Varric began choking on his drink. Isabela, one fist shoved in her mouth began to pat him on the back until he could breathe again. Carver began clearing his throat repeatedly and Bethany was turning red again. There was a pregnant pause while everyone watched Andraste burn in Sebastian’s hand until Aveline finally leaned over and blew the figurine out. Isabela lost it at that point and began cackling with big ugly snorts. Other small giggles began bubbling out from around the circle.
Merrill, clearly feigning innocence, placed her hand over her mouth, the halla mask she wore making her expression more doe like than normal “Oh was that inappropriate?”
Fenris finally broke in with “Moving on,” and began opening his gift. Anders’ heart was doing it’s very best to climb up his throat as Fenris carefully opened the paper wrapping. It stopped entirely when he revealed the book and a small quirk of the lips appeared on his face. The smile quickly fell however as he opened the book. His brow knit ever so slightly and his mouth turned down into a small frown. Anders’ heart gave up on his throat and instead began trying to claw its way out of his ribcage.
He screwed up.
Fenris hates the book.
The elf looked up with a polite smile and addressed the group with a polite “Thank you. I’ll add it to my backlog.” It was like a heavy weight was pressing on Anders. Stupid. So stupid. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up so much. His mind raced at what the problem could be. First he thought maybe in a room of beautiful and unique gifts, a book was too common and… cheap. But no, he was pleased to see the book at first, it was what was in it that he didn’t like. Damn. He shouldn’t have gotten him something from Tevinter.
Stupid. Just because Anders accepts that the circle is a part of him doesn’t mean Fenris regards Tevinter the same way. Just another thing he imagined between himself and the elf.
“Anders? Are you alright?”
Anders started at the sound of Hawke’s voice. Everyone was looking at him, apparently it was his turn. “Ah sorry!” He stuttered, “Just thinking about…. One of my patients.”
Hawke smiled gently, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No patients tonight, Anders. You deserve a holiday too.”
Great, everyone caught him brooding over a stupid failed gift and probably thought he was losing control again. “Heh well, can’t help it. Healer’s habit.” He regarded the gift in his lap, a simple brown box tied with twine. He loosened the bow and pulled off the lid to reveal several small burlap bags that were tied closed and labeled. Further inspection revealed they were bags seeds, the labels marking them as various medicinal herbs. “They’re seeds!” He looked through the bags, his smile growing as he did. He could plant a complete medicinal garden from these. He’d be able to help so many people that need difficult medications.
Merrill leaned over to see the seeds. “Ooooh! Crystal grace! And prophet’s laurel! There’s some very rare seeds in here!”
“I know! This is excellent, thank you!” He smiled at the circle of friends. He was still largely disappointed over Fenris disliking his gift, but perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
Anders continued to take stock of the seeds as gift opening finished. He couldn’t believe how complete it was, he’d never have to go up Sundermount for herbs again. As he rummaged through the bags his eye caught sight of a slip of paper at the bottom of the box. He pulled it out and read the simple note in plain, even print. YOU ARE MORE THAN A FIGHT.
His heart stuttered at the note. So much loaded into one sentence.
Before he could truly ponder it, Carver opened some sort of custom dagger that belonged to his father or something, and the gift giving concluded. Orana pulled out her lute and began to play. Hawke demanded everyone get up and play a line game and the night continued in a blur of chanting and clapping and dancing.
Anders tried not to think about Fenris. Instead his mind drifted over and over again to whomever gifted him the seeds. It was such a wonderful gift, one he could use, one Justice would let him have. The more he thought about, the more he concluded that only one person could have given him the seeds: Hawke.
Only Hawke has ever really supported his mission. And only Hawke could possibly have the resources available to acquire the rarer plants. His eyes drifted towards his friend constantly for the rest of the night. A flicker of...something kindled in his heart whenever he did. An old hope, an unexplored yearning. He had to remind himself that Hawke was with Isabela, just because he gave him a note telling him he was more than his mission didn’t mean anything.
But was anyone ever really with Isabela?
A light warmth settled within him. He kept drifting back to the box of seeds and running his hand over the lid. Maybe he was being too sentimental over what was largely a utilitarian gift. But a gladness over a simple gesture of care overcame him and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
Not once did Anders notice the way Fenris would smile to himself whenever Anders went to appreciate the seeds. Anders did not notice the way green elven eyes would track his movements through the room. He did not notice Fenris continuously opening the book to puzzle at the unfamiliar punctuation that made it difficult to pick out the words, even though they were in his own language. Nor did Anders notice the awe on Fenris’ face when he discovered a single rose pressed into the pages of his book.