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Fenris entered the study, where Anders was sitting at the desk, or rather bent over it with his head in his hands, staring at his manifesto and the entire mess around it. Fenris closed the door none too gently behind him and locked it. Anders startled and turned around. The relief that instantly coloured Anders’s eyes upon seeing Fenris made something hurt in his chest, but he ignored it in favour of his current objective.
“Talk, mage,” Fenris growled, and it sounded a lot less harsh than he had intended it to be. Anders’s dishevelled and anguished appearance was somehow dampening his anger. But not entirely.
“Fenris…” Anders started, confusion blooming on his face at Fenris’s tone and expression.
“Talk,” Fenris repeated as he walked towards him with purpose.
“About what?” Anders quickly got up and took a step backwards, then seemed to panic slightly as his thighs hit the desk.
Fenris sighed, trying to tone down the glower. Spooking the mage wouldn’t help much in his endeavour. “Anything. Everything. That was the deal, was it not? Between us. When this all began. If I could learn to do it, you also can. So talk.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hawke says we should wait for you to talk when you are ready, but I disagree. This is getting out of hand.” Anders seemed confused, and that made Fenris’s previous annoyance bubble up again. “Why did you lie to us, to drag us through the sewers? What are you planning in the chantry?”
Anders’s shoulders deflated and he looked away. “I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” Fenris prompted when no more words came.
“You’ll kill me. I need to see this through first.”
This almost confirmed Fenris’s suspicions, and didn’t help his temper at all. “You are nearly done with your manifesto, are you not? You said I had to read it, and I actually want to. If it convinces me as you promised it would, it will convince a lot of people.”
He watched as anger took over Anders’s features, provoked by Fenris’s accusations. “This stupid thing won’t save anyone from Meredith!” Anders suddenly grabbed the book behind him and threw it towards the fireplace.
If Fenris had been an ordinary elf, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything but watch the tome go up in flames. However, he was the Lyrium Ghost, and years of honing his reflexes had him move so fast it was as though he had teleported next to the fireplace, the unscathed manifesto in one hand.
Anders’s anger faded as quickly as it appeared and he looked appalled. This book wasn’t a unique exemplary, Anders made many copies of it, since it supposedly helped put his thoughts in order, but everyone knew not to touch the one in the study. That was the main version and Anders was usually very careful with it.
Fenris walked towards him with a frown and handed him the book.
“Thank you,” Anders whispered, eyes wide as he took it from Fenris’s hand with extreme caution. He held the book tightly against his chest, as though it was worth the entire world to him. Knowing what Fenris did, it probably was, and it scared him a little to think that Anders was at a point where even that didn’t matter anymore when he got swept away by strong emotions. “I’m sorry,” Anders added as he looked away from Fenris again and down at the floor.
“Rein that d – spirit of yours in tighter.”
“It’s just me, Fenris.”
“Bullshit. He takes control sometimes, so you can too.”
“I’m not that strong. You said so multiple times.”
“Then talk to us when you feel yourself slipping! Have we not been together long enough that you can trust us?”
At that, Anders finally met Fenris’s eyes again. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to decide against it and closed it back.
Something twisted again in Fenris’s chest. ‘You’ll kill me,’ Anders had said just a few minutes before, with conviction. Was that what Anders trusted Fenris to do, then? Despite his professions of love, was that what he believed of Fenris? That he would kill someone he cared about without a second thought? The only way that would occur was if Anders actually turned into a full-fledged abomination. Surely that wasn’t Anders’s plan. The man abhorred blood magic, and he had a strong enough grip on Justice that even Fenris trusted that wouldn’t happen. Otherwise he would have walked away a long time ago.
“If you don’t want to talk, fine, but we can at least distract you until you regain control.” He grabbed Anders’s hand. “Come,” he beckoned, tugging gently.
Anders put the manifesto back on the desk and followed. Fenris dragged him all the way up to the bedroom.
“Get in the bed.”
“I’m not in the mood, Fenris,” Anders frowned.
Fenris narrowed his eyes. “And you think I am?” Realising Anders jumped to the wrong conclusion, Fenris sighed and looked away. He turned and started unbuckling one of his gauntlets. “That is not what I had in mind. Help me take my armour off.”
It took a moment for Anders to move, but he eventually assisted Fenris, very carefully and without a single word. When Fenris then started undoing Anders’s robes, he hesitated some more before helping in this task as well.
Once they were in their smallclothes, Fenris took Anders’s hand in his, cupped his jaw with his other hand, then made the lyrium around those two points flare. Though Anders’s breath hitched, he knew it wouldn’t be enough, compared to a few years before. Justice was too driven, too close to Vengeance, to be distracted even by the song of the lyrium that he proclaimed he loved so much, but Fenris hoped anyway. He leant in for a chaste but lingering kiss, and was reassured when Anders softly kissed him back. He lightly pulled Anders towards the bed, then got under the covers first.
“Come here,” Fenris offered with his arms open.
Anders didn’t hesitate in the slightest this time, and Fenris saw his thoughts clearing up by the way his composure was gradually falling while he settled against Fenris. As Fenris closed his arms around Anders, he lit up entirely, hoping to alleviate more of his burden. Anders broke into tears, clinging tightly to Fenris’s waist. The pain in Fenris’s chest flared up again, as did his hate for the ‘spirit’ possessing Anders’s body and mind. It might not be called a demon by mages’ standards, but it still brought a lot of suffering to the people on this side of the Veil.
“I will blow up the Chantry, Fenris. I know I will,” Anders brokenly admitted after a few minutes.
“Kaffas! I knew it…”
“You can kill me, but after. Please.”
“Shut up. We will work through this.”
“How? I just need to do it, Fenris. Nothing else will be enough…”
Fenris continued to hold him tightly through his sobs and tried to think, but his mind was reeling. He knew what it was like to feel a burning need to accomplish something, a fire which obscured any other thought, and he didn’t like the fact that most of those moments were linked to Danarius giving him an order.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Anders asked.
“You have done nothing to deserve it yet.”
“Will you kill me after it’s done? Please, Fenris, this is too much…”
“We will see.”
The bedroom door opened and Fenris heard Hawke try his best to enter as quietly as he could.
“Hey, loves. Are you already sleeping?” Hawke whispered. Then he heard Anders’s sobs. “Oh. What happened?”
“He is about to blow up the chantry.”
“Maker’s breath, Anders…”
“There’s nothing you can say to talk me out of it. It already took a lot out of me to admit it to Fenris. I’m – Justice and I are too far gone. I even lied to you. I’m so sorry… I just don’t want the blame to fall on you two, this is my burden.”
“I want to help, Anders. You know that.” Hawke quickly disrobed and slipped under the covers behind Anders. “We can get rid of Meredith.”
“And someone else will replace her. No one cares enough in this city. We need action now, and the fucking Grand Cleric is just useless!”
“I know…” Caressing Anders’s stomach and chest and kissing his neck. “It’s getting too much even for me.”
“Hawke…” Fenris warned.
“We’ll clear out the chantry and the perimeter. Will you let us do that, at least?”
Fenris was still frowning, but not objecting.
“Yes. Please do,” Anders answered in a whisper.
“We’ve got you, Anders. Let us know when you feel like you’re starting to slip, alright? We’re here for you. Always.”
“Stay in control.” Fenris added firmly. “You are stronger than Justice.”
Anders began weeping in earnest once more. “I love you both so much. Why are you still with me?”
“I love you too, Anders. Never doubt that.”
Fenris kissed his brow. “You are certainly testing my limits, but… I do not think there is anywhere else I would rather be than at both your sides.”
Anders’s arms tightened around his waist, and Hawke was looking at Fenris with that foolishly happy smile of his that made his heart feel full.
Eventually, Anders regained a more even breathing. He wiped his remaining tears with the sleeve of his nightclothes. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “Alright. Distract me, then. How are you, Fenris?” he asked, pulling back enough to look up at Fenris.
Fenris searched his eyes for a moment. “I am free,” he replied, surprising even himself when he realised how true that statement was.
Anders’s smile was small but genuine. He brought one hand up to tuck Fenris’s hair behind his ear. “That you are. I’m happy for you, my love.”
Hawke kissed Anders’s neck, then looked back at Fenris, reaching over Anders to include Fenris in his embrace. “And you have a sister.”
“Mmh,” Fenris grunted, unconvinced. “I am yet unsure how I feel about her.”
“That’s understandable.”
“It’s okay, take your time.”
“And your markings? Are they hurting less? Would you like me to…”
“Have you regained enough control for that?” Fenris asked Anders dubiously.
“Healing is what comes most naturally for me. It’s always stronger than the need for vengeance.”
Fenris sighed. “My legs have started hurting again,” he admitted.
“Will you let me?”
“I wish I could do it too.”
Fenris directed a scowl at Hawke. “Not if it means that you need to become possessed as well.”
“You’re already an accomplished spirit healer now,” Anders added, more than a little proud. “It helps a lot.”
“I’ve had the best teacher,” Hawke grinned.
“Will you let me relieve your muscles while he heals your markings?”
Massages were torture for Fenris, even with Anders’s gentle magic, but they found that applying some particular healing techniques to the muscle wiithout touching helped a great deal. So he sat up against a few cushions and watched as the two men literally started working their magic from either side of him.
And that was when it hit him.
He hadn’t even flinched internally when he felt them pulling from the Fade. What had his life become that he ended up letting two mages so far under his skin? They represented what Fenris hated most in this world, and yet they didn’t.
Their magic, for one, was unlike anything he had experienced as far as he could remember. It was warm. It was comforting. Anders’s specifically – and wasn’t that ironic. Hawke’s had a more tingling undercurrent, something more impatient, yet it never hurt. Even in battle, they did everything in their power to avoid touching their allies with their offensive spells, where someone like Danarius would never care if a slave or a mercenary got caught in the crossfire.
These two men had followed a runaway slave without doubting him, even when Fenris kept leading them into traps after traps laid by Danarius and Hadriana.
These mages believed in freedom for the mages in the South, yet they genuinely loathed blood magic and slavery. That was quite a thought, especially when one of them was supposed to be an abomination. Sure, Anders’s tenuous control over that spirit of his was dangerous, but the mage did not relish the extra power this gave him, unless it came to healing. Fenris had sworn to kill Anders if he so much as showed signs of losing himself to Vengeance. Actively planning on blowing up the Kirkwall chantry would count as a step towards that, so why was Fenris even considering letting him, and worse, aiding him?
Hawke looked up from his ministrations. When Fenris’s eyes moved from their study of Anders and met his, Hawke smiled his blinding smile and Fenris’s heart skipped a beat. Fenris was a fool in love, and love made people do terrible things.
“Are your legs feeling better?” Hawke asked.
Fenris tested the strain in his muscles by moving his feet and sensed none of the previous discomfort.
He hummed in pleasure. “Yes. Much better. Thank you.”
Hawke grinned even wider, satisfied. He released his spell, then lifted one of Fenris’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss inside his palm. “Anything else we can do for you?”
Fenris turned to Anders who had shifted down to his feet before also letting his magic gradually fizzle out. When Anders met his gaze, the smile he addressed Fenris was more restrained than Hawke’s. Uncertain.
Fenris sat up. He gestured at Anders to move closer, and when he complied, Fenris hooked his arms around both his and Hawke’s necks and flopped back down onto the cushions, eliciting surprised yelps and laughs from his lovers.
“Just this,” he answered Hawke, tightening his grip on the men as they settled more comfortably on his sides, their heads coming to rest on Fenris’s shoulders and their arms encircling his stomach. It didn’t even hurt to have them resting on him like this, thanks to their regular healing. They had done the impossible for him, and he would do the same for them.
Fenris was a fool in love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.