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Chapter Text

Fenris should have guessed he was coming down with something.

He had spent the entire week feeling bloated and irritable until finally he had woken up torn with pain. He felt like his whole body was split in two, agony so intense he believed himself to be dying. When he finally managed to drag himself out of bed he realised he had left a puddle of fresh blood in the sheets.

His stomach plummeted. Forgetting all about his pride, he dressed himself and sprinted to the Darktown clinic. He did not care about the odd looks he got nor the blood he smeared beneath his feet. He barrelled through the door, panting and folding over himself as pain radiated through his abdomen.

"Mage !" he barked, startling the few patients waiting around. "I'm dying ! It's an emergency !"

Anders turned around with a nonplussed expression, not even startled by his brusque entrance. "Oh, please. Aren't you being a little dramatic ? Just tell me what's -... Oh, Andraste's jiggly tits ! Get in the back ! I'll have a look at you !"

The elf whimpered. The blood had stained his pants so thoroughly they stank of iron even here. He limped toward the Mage's operating room with his arms pressed to his stomach, hoping he would survive whatever disease had befallen him.

Anders helped him past the moth-eaten curtain and up onto the surgery table. The wood was surprisingly smooth and clean. Good, he wouldn't be able to handle being laid down on another mage’s sacrificial slab.

Anders began undoing the buckles of his armour with precision, trying to locate the origin of the bleeding. "What happened ? Did you get into a fight ? Is Hawke alright ? Where is the wound ?"

"Not a fight," croaked the elf, helping the Mage undress him. In any other circumstances he would be hissing and spitting at the Mage for exposing him like this but right now he felt terrified, like never before. "Woke up bleeding. Felt unwell a few days before but not as bad."

"Alright. Digestive bleeding then. It looks like it's low enough to be easily treatable. I might not have to use magic but we need to hurry. Could you have eaten something solid you weren’t supposed to ? Swallowed a broken bone bit maybe ? Ate the Hanged Man special broth ?"

Fenris undid the laces of his pants, wincing when the blood squelched as he pushed them down. "Not that I'm aware. Do you truly think you can treat me using solely surgery ?"

"I can try but - Oh..."

Fenris froze. The Mage had taken a step back when the elf had fully taken off his pants and looked at his crotch as if there was a whole nug down there.

"Mage ? What is it ?"

"Sorry, wasn't expecting you to-... Never mind, not my business. I need to clean this mess so I can see what's happening down there." mumbled the blond, snatching a clean basin and rag. He then summoned water and proceeded to remove the blood obscuring his view.

Fenris winced when the lukewarm rag was applied to his groin. Despite the Mage's cautious and clinical gestures everything felt too sensitive and rugged on his skin. He struggled to hold back the urge to kick the Healer in the face and gritted his teeth. He had suffered far worse. At least Anders was trying not to hurt him.

"Alright, I see. Fenris, I need you to stay calm. Good news, it's not digestive bleeding and surgery might not be needed but I do need to use a little bit of diagnostic magic to make sure what's going on. You might still be in danger and I can't go in blind. Is that okay with you ?"

The elf growled in frustration but acquiesced his consent. The Healer brought his hands to his pelvis and called on his magic. The lyrium brands burned in answer. The vibration almost worse than the deep pulsing pain.

"Alright, alright, I see, shit. Good news, you're not in any mortal peril, I should be able to help you with just potions but you'll have a very shitty couple of days."

Fenris let out a sigh of relief as the magic withdrew and the Mage moved away to rummage through his locked potion reserve and picked a few weird looking vials.

"What was the problem, Mage ? Why does it hurt so much ?" asked the elf, pushing himself off the table on wobbly legs to gather his gear back. He considered cleaning his leggings. He couldn't possibly go back to Hightown covered in dried blood.

"Well, your uterus is full of fibrous build up and your period is trying to get rid of all of it at once. I've also spotted a few cysts on your ovaries, you'll have to keep an eye on them and come to me if you feel any sudden pain in your pelvic region. I'll give you some potions to help with the pain, lessen the bleeding, facilitate the tissue evacuation, prevent it from building back up, and stimulate your body to compensate for lost blood."

Fenris blinked at the Mage. Uterus ? Ovaries ? "I don't understand."

"Ah, sorry. So it's like, your womb built up a thick, solid layer instead of the soft and thin tissue it is supposed to to prepare for pregnancy. And the uh... The organ that makes tiny eggs for semen to fertilise has some bubbles on it that might cause bleeding if they pop and cancer if they don't. Sorry, you're so eloquent sometimes I always assume you will understand any technical jargon."

"My -... Mage, I don't have a womb. Males don't have wombs. Nor do they produce eggs or get pregnant ! What are you implying ?"

Anders paused his rummaging to look at the pantless elf like he had grown a second head. "Fenris, you clearly have a -... I mean, you can see it, right ? This didn't happen overnight, did it ?"

"The branding ritual caused my genitals to suffer some rare form of infection," snarled the warrior with a defensive growl. "Danarius had no choice but to have them removed. He did everything he could to...make sure their loss would not impair me too much."

"Fenris... Maker, how do I even say this ?...Do you remember this 'infection' ? Or did Danarius tell you this happened after the fact ?"

Fenris’ throat rumbled in warning. "I don't appreciate your implications, Mage. Be very careful with what you are about to say next."

"Andraste's knickerweasels ! I'm not trying to trick you, Fenris," pleaded Anders, nervously shaking the vials he was holding around. "I assure you emasculation, whether as the result of infection or whatever, does not look like this ! You would only have a single hole left for urination you would not have a full vulva and vaginal cavity to go with it ! What you have in your pants, and what I very clearly sensed with my magic are...well, female genitalia."

"Stop toying with me, Mage. I am very clearly a man ! Even Danarius said so !"

"Yes and Danarius is such a reliable and trustworthy person ! Listen, I'm not trying to argue. You're a man. I'm not trying to tell you otherwise or trying to change that. I'm just saying you might not have been told the whole truth. Now, healing wise, I want you to take four drops of this vial daily, come see me when you run out. It will help with the fibrous tissue, also prevent more cystic build-up. The purple one is for pain, it will also lessen muscular contractions, not more than five drops every six hours, and no, you can't take twenty drops at once for a whole day. If you're still in pain in four days come to me. You put the drops in water not wine and do not mix them. For the blood loss you can just chug the blue one before bed tonight. If possible don't take them next to each other, at least fifteen minutes apart. Is everything clear ?"

The elf took the handful of vials shoved into his arms and nodded.

"Great, if you have more questions you can come to me any time. And if you doubt what I told you before you can even ask Isabela, I'm sure she would be agreeable to give you her professional opinion and prove my point. Take your time getting ready, I'll go back to work. Holler if you need me.”

And with that the Healer was gone. Back to his work, back to his life after kicking a massive hole in Fenris’. It took a minute for the elf to start moving again, setting the vials back on the slightly stained table before putting his bloody pants back on. He refused to acknowledge the emptiness he had grown familiar with, focusing on slipping the vials into his potion pouch. The pain had not disappeared but it seemed so distant and insignificant now. Without a word he left the operating room and left the clinic, not even bidding goodbye to the Mage. It didn’t matter, Anders didn’t even turn around for him either. He was busy with someone who actually wanted his help.

He trudged his way back slowly. He did not care about the odd looks he got nor the blood he smeared beneath his feet. He pushed the door of his empty mansion open and locked it carefully behind himself.

He did not hurry his way back to the kitchen. He took a clean glass out of the cupboard and poured himself a glass of water. Five drops from the purple one for pain. It was about a quarter past nine in the morning. He would not take another glass until a quarter past three in the afternoon, he had to wait until nine and a half before taking his dose from the other vial for the… fibrous tissue.

Already he felt the pain in his stomach lessen, with a sigh of relief he left the kitchen to head back to his room. He was about to crash back in bed when he saw the carnage he had left behind. The flooding sea of blood he remembered seemed much smaller now, a spot large as his spread hand. Fenris had lost more blood in minor scuffles. With his ears burning in shame he pulled off the sheets and went to dump them in the bathtub for cleaning, tossed his leggings in for good measure and opened up the hot water faucet.

He watched the level of the rosy water rise.

Could the Healer be right? Could this be period blood?

He ran his hand between his legs. Some blood still dampened his crotch, he ignored the disgusting slimy feeling to explore with his fingers. The small nub Danarius claimed was a vestige of his manhood. His Master had demanded so much praise for ‘managing to salvage so much of it’. He then traced the flaps he had believed to be mangled remnants of his sack and the deep hole between.

Danarius had gushed so much about this bit of his anatomy. Praised him for him being ‘made to fit him’, how the elf’s own body had ‘decided’ to adjust just to please his Master.

He slipped a finger inside, only Danarius had been there before, the Magister wouldn’t allow anyone access to this part of his favoured pet. Fenris had never dared to penetrate himself or allow anyone else to, even after running away from the Magister. The tunnel fought back against the intrusion, tensing and contracting to expel the intruding presence. He recalled the syrupy nauseating words whispered in his ear as the other man had forced himself into him…

My lovely little pet. So tight for me. A perfect sheath for me. My pretty little wolf. Made for me.

Made for me.

Bile erupted from his mouth and Fenris fell to his knees, retching the contents of his almost empty stomach all over the floor. Vomit punched out of himself violently, shaking his entire body, leaving him quivering and staggered. He kept gagging and heaving until nothing else could possibly come out and collapsed on the cold floor as far away from the mess he had made as he possibly could.

Anders was correct.

He did not remember the infection Danarius had claimed took his masculinity. The only memories following his recovery from the ritual muddled and dark. The Magister could have done anything to him and he wouldn’t remember.

He curled up on himself, sobbing in pain and despair.

What has he done to me? What has he done to me?

Chapter Text

Fenris followed the Healer’s directions religiously, even stopping his drinking altogether to make sure it wouldn’t interact with the Mage’s treatment. The first day he waited in front of the clock to make sure he would not take his painkiller dose a second too soon despite the returning pain. By the second one, the pain would only return once six hours had already passed. The third one, he got a full night’s sleep without being awakened by pain. The fourth, the bleeding had stopped and he only felt a vague bloating sensation but Fenris would be hard-pressed to call it pain.

Still, it was not the first time the Healer scolded him regarding his high-pain threshold so maybe bloating was supposed to be alarming ? Maybe he should check up with him just to make sure ?

He got dressed, strapped himself with his sword, and left his house for the first time since his bleeding incident. His period ? No, Fenris couldn’t bring himself to call it that.

He made a stop to the market, buying a handful of supplies, mostly herbs and alcohols he knew could be used for brewing along with a hot shepherd’s pie as thanks for the Healer’s precious help. He wondered if he should have bought him a new tunic to replace the tattered rag he dared to call clothing but figured the stupid mage might hand it away to one of the poor and downtrodden leeching on his bleeding heart.

By the time he reached the clinic it was almost noon and the pie was still warm. The place was relatively quiet, just a handful of urchins lollygagging in a corner and an elderly woman cleaning bloody rags while humming a tune.

Anders was in his potion corner, grinding some elfroot and filling the clinic with the bittersweet smell of herbs. When Fenris approached the Healer smelled the warm pie hidden in the elf’s basket and perked up.

“Fenris ? What brings you here ? Are you still in pain ?”

Fenris shook his head. “Not here, Mage.”

“Oh, right. Do we need the operating table or- ...”

“Your room will be fine.”

The Mage acquiesced and stood up, leading the elf into the closet he called a bedroom. It barely had enough space to accommodate the bedroll the Healer slept on, the table was barely large enough to hold an entire page of velum, a stool, and a rickety chest.

Anders hurriedly gathered the pages of his hand-written manifesto to make room for his basket. “There, you can put your stuff here. What brings you here ? Are you still in pain ?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to call it pain. I feel strangely bloated. I would prefer to have it checked.”

“Bloating ? Well, if it was painful enough to bring you here I’d better take a look. Are you okay with me using magic again ?” asked the Healer, showing his hand like he was trying to attract some scaredy cat.

Fenris shrugged. “I suppose there are little options here. Do you need me to undress ?”

“Oh, no, no! Just lift your tunic a little so I can touch skin…There, that’s enough, ready ?”

The Mage had his palm pressed to his lower stomach the other over his back to steady the Elf. The gesture was oddly intimate and clinical at the same time. Any touch in this area should have caused him to react violently. The very memory of Danarius touching him made him growl in warning, maybe because of the disgusting words the Magister would say or the way his spidery fingers would always end up creeping elsewhere. But Anders’ hands were still, firm but respectful, and his mouth was blissfully quiet even as he poured his magic into him.

“Sorry, I know it hurts, if it becomes too much tap my shoulder before you rip my heart out… Alright… I think I see the problem. Yeah, done,” the magic pulled away and Fenris let out a sigh of relief when the hands left his body. “Sorry, thank you for your patience, I know it’s not easy for you. I couldn’t see anything worrying. It just looks like your body couldn’t fully eliminate the fibrous tissue, if you take the medicine I gave you on your next period it should be all gone. I can get rid of it through magic but that seems really unnecessary. I mean, even if you didn’t have a problem with magic it would be a lot of work and discomfort for little result. Is that okay with you?”

Fenris nodded. “Yes that is… a satisfactory answer. Thank you for your time, Mage.”

“Anytime! I mean, what else is magic supposed to be for ?”

Maybe Anders expected a rebuttal because he seemed disquieted when the elf did nothing but nod quietly.

“Fenris ? Is something the matter ?”

“Possibly,” admitted the warrior, leaning against the crummy wall with his arms crossed. “I… have been thinking about what you told me last time. You happen to be correct. I do not remember this ‘infection’ Danarius told me about. The few days following the ritual are a haze to me, so are any memory prior to it. It confuses me. I was hoping I could talk to you about it. Over a meal if it suited you ?”

The Healer’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “With me ? Right now ? Of course ! It’s a quiet day so we might as well make use of it, just give me a second.”

Fenris waited as the Mage disappeared, he heard him talk to the elderly lady, telling her to call if anyone came by then promptly returned in his room with two spoons, wooden plates, and a dull knife.

“There we go, all set ! I believe I smelled pie! Was I correct ?”

The Elf chuckled, pulling the fabric covering his bounty to show the presents he had brought. “You do have a fine nose for pie and darkspawn. I also brought some herbs and spirits for potions, I don’t recommend drinking those.”

“Did those come from the Hightown market ?! It must have cost a fortune! What kind of meat is in there?”

“Beef. You need to put some meat on your bones, Mage. One day a gust of wind is going to blow you into the ocean.”

“Oh, oh, oh! The rare broody elf jokes ! I was starting to think those were but mere legends ! I must have done something exceptional to deserve both these and beef pie !” laughed the Healer, cutting the pie in two equal parts and serving them as if these were normal sized portions of food to eat. Fenris began to fear Anders’ whining about the Wardens appetite were no legends either.

“Maybe. It did feel exceptional to me. I am still not sure what I have done to deserve such treatment but it would be unfair not to show my gratitude.”

Anders shrugged, half of his slice shoved in his cheeks like he had turned into a ravenous squirrel. “ ‘tish nothin’… Not like I couldsh lea’e you to bleedsh out. Musht ha’e been sca’y ash hell fo’ you.”

“It was…” Fenris put a piece of meat in his mouth. He was still unused to eating in front of people. A part of his mind screamed he should hide his food or stuff it in his mouth like Anders was. “I was hoping…Do you think I could be restored ? Have my…manhood returned to me ?”

The Mage paused his demoniac pie-devouring to think, pieces of carrots still hanging from his cheeks. “Well…In theory it is possible. But the how depends on how and what Danarius modified.”

“What do you mean ?”

Anders sighed, setting his plate at his feet and wiping his face with a rag before resuming his talk. “Well, only Blood Magic can undo Blood Magic. Now, don’t panic, such bodily changes don’t necessarily require Blood Magic to be made so maybe he didn’t use it, in which case reversing it should be feasible though it would require a good chunk of Lyrium. I just need to diagnose you again to find out how he proceeded then it’s just about finding the correct resources.”

Fenris felt his ears and stomach drop. “Then it is doomed. Danarius seldom used anything other than Blood Magic.”

“Fenris, you are covered in Lyrium. And the Lyrium must have been freshly activated when it was branded into you. It would have been a massive waste to use Blood Magic with active Lyrium on hand. Even for a deranged madman like Danarius. Finish your pie and let me take a look. I might be able to work something out even without Blood Magic.”

The elf nodded, despite Anders’ reassurances he felt no hope. Danarius would have loved to use Blood Magic just for the sake of his magic persisting beyond his death. This was the sort of petty man Danarius was. Still, he ate the pie as demanded, pretending he could eat no more halfway through so the Mage could finish his part. Anders all but inhaled the food and after a quick rinsing of his hands and face he had his hands back on his body.

Fenris swallowed his fear as magic returned, prodding, searching. This time it felt less like pain and more like a rough scratch. Magic resonating with magic and not forcing itself in flesh where it didn’t belong. He observed the blond’s face intently, the Healer was gazing into empty space, like listening to a tuning instrument for the correct note while making small humming sounds.

After a few minutes of exploration Anders’ hands retreated, allowing the elf to cover himself back nervously.

“Well?”

“Well, the good news is. He didn’t use Blood Magic on your genitals. At least not to modify them.”

Fenris felt his chest flood with anxious relief. Really ? There was a chance he could go back to the way he was meant to be ? He could be full again ? Fenris wanted this to be true and yet he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. “Truly ? Where is the catch, Mage ? How do we fix this ? How can I be restored ?”

“Fenris, I need you to remain calm for what I’m about to tell you. Danarius didn’t modify anything. Well, didn’t do any modifications meant to last without his constant input… Fenris, I can still help you but not to ‘restore’ yourself because there was never anything to restore.”

“What are you trying to say, Mage ?” growled the elf. Of course it couldn’t be so easy, of course he had been foolish to put his trust in the Abomination.

“What I mean is… Maker, how do I formulate this… What you currently have between your legs is what you always had between your legs. You were born female, Fenris. Danarius didn’t take anything from you. At least not this.”

“No !” Fenris shouted, puffing himself up and lighting his markings. “I am a man ! Danarius disfigured me ! He mutilated me ! It can’t be any other way ! You are lying to me !”

Anders raised his palms up in a show of peace but Fenris didn’t care, he was boiling with rage. “Fenris, listen. It’s not bad, you can still be a man and have female -…”

“No ! I should have known you couldn’t be trusted ! It is in the innate nature of mages to lie ! What were you going to ask of me for your ‘help’ ? For me to debase myself for your filthy desires ?! For my obedience and loyalty ?! For free access to my lyrium ?!”

“Fenris…”

“Abi pedicatum, magus ! No, a degenerate like you might enjoy it ! In cruce figaris ! I hope you get sick from overeating and shit yourself to death ! Don’t ever talk to me again !”

“Wait ! Fenris !”

The Elf stormed off, feeling his skin burning as the old woman and urchins looked at him in stunned disbelief. Did they even know just how evil the Mage they clung to truly was ? Maker willing they would realise it before they got torched like he had been.

He sprinted all the way to his Mansion and slammed the door behind him, smacking the vials the Mage had tricked him into drinking. Fuck him ! Curse him ! No wonder the Maker had rejected Mages from his benevolent gaze !

He stormed back into his cellar and snatched the closest bottle he could find and chugged it dry.

Fasta Vass !

He had survived this before he would survive this again! He didn’t need some stupid mage help !

He would survive like he always had before !

Fenris resumed his life as it had been before, ignoring the bloating like he ignored the latent pain of his lyrium markings. He avoided Wicked Grace evening, knowing Anders would probably be there and he did not want to face him and his lies. After long hours of scrubbing he managed to remove the shameful bloodstain from his leggings and sheets. Just in case he now slept in the nude with a thick towel beneath his hips just to make sure he would not humiliate himself again.

Half a week later Hawke showed up at his door, grinning and carefree as usual.

“Hey, there, handsome ! Aveline has spotted some slavers on the Wounded Coast. I’ll be joining her to kick their sorry arses back to Tevinter. And since we didn’t see you for Wicked Grace I figured I’d come find you. You in ?”

Fenris chuckled, good thing Hawke was always looking out for him. Hawke and his late sister were proof some mages could be good, unlike Danarius or the Abomination. “Of course. I am always available to slaughter some slavers. Let me pick up my sword.”

“Fantastic ! We just need to grab Anders and we’ll get going !”

The Elf froze dead in his tracks. Of course, Anders and Hawke were quite friendly with each others, and hunting slavers meant they might find captured slaves and require a healer.

Fenris strapped Lethendralis to his back and shoved himself into Hawke’s personal space with his chest puffed. “I’m not going with the Abomination.”

“Uh ? Why ?”

“He’s…” he paused to find the right words without betraying himself. Hawke was such a devout man, and Fenris could not recall what the Chantry’s teachings were regarding those living under different identities. He knew the Chantry dissuaded same-sex relationships, so what would they say of someone living under a sex different than the one they had been born with ? He didn’t want to be judged for his deformity. “He’s not trustworthy and we cannot bring him with us. I will not go if he comes.”

Hawke rose an eyebrow with his lips pinched. He seemed disgruntled, guarded. “Is this about him being an apostate again ? I know we should both be in the Circle. That would be the right thing, but we’re trying to make up for our sins. We both try to work for the common good in our own ways.”

“No ! That’s not what this is about ! I know where your heart lies and I would not be so petty as to insult you with my differences with him. He’s not as good as you’re making him to be.” He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling through his mind to find the right way to explain himself in the common tongue. “I made the mistake of trusting him with… intimate matters. He’s not as selfless as he makes himself out to be.”

“Oh… I see. Let’s get Sebastian, then. We do need some ranged cover, and a rogue would be useful if there’s some people locked up, yeah ?”

Fenris sighed with relief when the large man dropped the matter. “Yes… Thank you for understanding. Let’s get Sebastian.”

Chapter Text

The mission went flawlessly. Hawke didn’t try to pry for his secret or his altercation with the Mage, probably assuming it was another of their usual bouts and chatted with everyone as if everything was normal. Fenris was thankful. He felt unusually twitchy and morose and didn’t want someone to argue with him. He prayed late into the night with Sebastian and accepted the Brother’s offer to join the upcoming mass at the end of the week.

Upon releasing the slaves and returning to Kirkwall Fenris felt a craving for sweet foods and took a detour to the Market for a treat. His nose led him back to the baker’s stall and lurk around the apple pies only to turn heels when she asked him if the one he had bought for the Abomination had been to his taste. He felt ridiculous for even considering the Healer was somewhat trustworthy and bringing him a peace offering. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan of frustration only to realise his fingers came back wet.

Fasta Vass ! This accursed Mage had messed up with his head so bad he was shedding his first tears since running from Danarius. He punched a marble column before buying a basket of apples and tailing back to his Mansion. He devoured them all in front of the fire, spitting the seeds into the fire with petulant rage.

The Mage had lied. He must have lied ! Fenris was a man ! He must have been born a man ! His disgusting bits must have been the handy work of Danarius ! He was willing to accept these were female parts but he refused to believe they had always been there, that they were his the same way his arms and legs were.

He went to bed cursing the Abomination with all the hexes he knew hoping the lyrium under his skin would somehow be enough to actually make them happen. He took wicked pleasure throwing a ‘Per voluntatem Dumat, mentula tua in pulverem decidat’ at the void and imagining it biting the Mage when he least expected it.

In the following days, his bloating remained and so did his wild mood swings. He would surprise himself eating entire baskets of apples. He still dodged Wicked Grace evening, replacing them with fervent attendance to the Chantry Mass, much to Sebastian’s delight. He kept training, taking odd jobs, day in day out, he would survive…

Until another month had passed.

Fenris found himself curled up on the cold floor, his hands pressed to his stomach. He ended up in his bathtub with a bottle of wine. His mind kept drifting at the stains left by Anders’ smashed vials, considering licking them off the walls and floors only to punch his own stomach in impotent rage.

He wanted to rip this ‘womb’ out of his belly, claw at his flesh just so he could see the pulsing monster causing him so much pain. Every kick of the organ had him cry like a whelp until he had to force himself to get out for food and water. He spent five days in his tub, naked, drunk, soaking in shallow cold water until finally the pain let out and he could get out once more.

The bloating had returned with a vengeance and his very soul shaken by the ordeal. Anders had made it so simple he had almost forgotten about it but he refused to return to the clinic.

For all he knew this was a clever plot by the Abomination. He might have cast a spell on Fenris while they shared camp. It could have been a machination to get him to grovel to his feet by offering him an ‘easy solution’. Fenris would just have to submit to his will, obey his every will to avoid pain every month.

Danarius had, Fenris would not fall for it again.

He would not die from monthly pain and a bit of unease.

Still, the obvious break of his trust felt harrowing and only cemented his resolve. If he saw the Mage again he would kill him.

He scrubbed his body clean only to curse himself for staying inactive for so long. In his forced rest he had clearly lost muscle mass. He grabbed his sword and trained restlessly to make up for the loss.

He had hoped to regain his strength within the next week but even by locking himself up in his home and training from dawn to dusk his body stagnated, worse, it kept melting. The fine line of his abdomen had soften, his arms grew weaker, his armour began to feel tight at the thighs and stomach but the worst part were his pectorals.

He had noticed that they were growing less and less firm but their volume was still roughly similar, but then his nipples began to point, the fat began to slump and change their shape into a much more humiliating one.

Fenris tried to slow the process by wrapping his chest in cloth, wearing several doublets on top of another, ignoring the unrelenting choking pressure it had on his lungs.

And yet despite all of his caution something he had never expected happened.

He was praying for before mass, kneeling before the altar and begging the Maker for his help in foiling the Mage’s foul plans when a well-dressed man stopped next to him. Fenris tried to ignore it, he was used to humans trying to solicit him he just hoped the stranger wouldn’t stoop so low as to do so before the Bride of the Maker.

The man took a knee and winked at the elf. When the warrior decided to ignore him, the man scoffed. “Come on, lady. I’m not bad looking ! I could make it worth your while.”

Fenris froze, smacked out of his meditative trance with the violent of a switch blow. “What did you call me ?”

“Lady ? I didn’t say Knife-ear !” defended the human, mistaking Fenris’ offense for a mere mishearing. “A beautiful maiden like you deserves to be treated like nobility. Such lovely eyes ! Such delicious plump ! Such majestic legs ! You’re by far more graceful than a Halla ! I could even buy you a house outside of the Alienage if you were agreeable. There’s a lovely apartment not so far from my estate I could house you in that-… Hey ! Where are you going, bitch ?+!”

Fenris stormed away, paler than the marble statues, dodging the gathering crowd like a hare fleeing through the wolves’ pack. He vaguely heard Sebastian call his name but he couldn’t bear to face him in this hideous form. He ran until he reached his mansion and barricaded the entrance shut with everything he had available, throwing even the mummified corpses against the door to keep it close.

He sprinted to the cellar and chugged down the first bottle he could reach.

He would survive…

From that day on Fenris no longer went to mass, preferring to visit Sebastian when the Chantry was almost empty. His friend noted the change but didn’t dare to push him for answer. The Archer did ask if the man was an agent of Danarius and Fenris gave him a non-answer to avoid further humiliation. He began spending almost as much time praying for miracle as he did training. His finances suffered but he had enough coin stashed to keep himself fed.

He planned for a drastic ration plan to stretch his finances to last as long as possible. He blamed his weight gain for the incident in the Chantry, the fat had softened his features, making it too confusing for humans to accurately define his gender. Humans routinely mistook male elves for females, he should not take it so personally.

He noticed the lines of his muscles returning but not their volume and some fat remained in the more inconvenient places. He clearly felt his romp pressing in the leathers of his leggings, and his chest pressing against the edges of his breastplate.

When going outside he kept it wrapped in bandages he had lying around and returned home as quickly as possible. He had begun covering the mirror in the bathroom, only used the tub with some of Danarius’ old reeking oils to make the water too murky to reflect his image back to him. He lived in the dark of his house, in the dark of the Chantry, light had turned into a thing to fear as it exposed his horrendous features, too easy to misrepresent.

He had almost forgotten of the outside world existed when the sun was shining until someone came to knock at his door. Fenris stumbled upon himself to wrap himself and snatch his sword, expecting another of those idiots trying to prove their bravery by risking their lives entering the haunted mansion.

But no one entered, instead the person knocked again and called.

“Fenris ? It’s me, Hawke ! Are you here ?”

The elf swore under his breath and went to open the door.

“Hawke. What are you doing here ?” growled Fenris at the ridiculously large mage.

His friend seemed unsettled by his hostility but Hawke was not a man easily deterred. “Well, I came for you, obviously. What would I do without a handsome elf to protect me ?” joked the Champion with a big grin. “I haven’t seen you in over a month, I was getting worried. Sebastian tells me Danarius might be on your tail so I did some digging and with Varric we found a group of Tevinter slavers lurking around the Wounded Coast. I figured you’d like to be there when we kick their arses !”

Fenris observed Hawke for a long minute. He had no clue of whether or not Danarius was still looking for him. It had been years now since he killed Hadriana and no signs of his old Master around. Still, he didn’t want Hawke and Sebastian to suspect the true reason behind his isolation so he simply acquiesced.

“The Mage will not be coming.”

It was not a question.

Hawke deflated again. “Alright, fine, a healer would be really useful dealing with slavers but okay. We’ll get Sebastian and Varric then.”

Fenris let out a sigh of relief and turned heels to get his gear. Not seeing how Hawke stared at his behind.

The trip to the Wounded Coast was uneventful, though Fenris often ended up at the front with Varric while Sebastian and Hawke discussed something a little further down the road. The Elf felt twitchy, he was almost certain they had their eyes on him, a chill creeping up his spine as he tried to keep his cool.

“So. We’re not seeing you at Wicked Grace much anymore.” tried Varric when Fenris tried and failed again to eavesdrop on the two whispering men behind.

Fenris shrugged, trying to maintain a neutral expression. “I’ve had other business to attend to.”

“Yeah, Danarius, Hawke told me. I wouldn’t get your hopes up though. Those guys we’re hunting sure are Tevinter but I couldn’t find a single clue about a Magister being involved with their business. In fact, I have not found a single trace of the bastard setting foot in Kirkwall in the past ten years, and I’m good at finding those.”

“If there’s Tevinter slavers somewhere there’s always a Magister involved. And I doubt Danarius is going to let me go, even more after I killed his favoured pupil.”

“Having your eyes closer to the ground makes it easier to find footprints and I’m telling you, Danarius hasn’t come here in a very long while.”

Fenris clenched his jaw. He had no intention to pursue this conversation, he knew the dwarf was right, he was here to obfuscate the reasons behind his isolation, not hunt Danarius.

The slavers were hiding well, Hawke’s crew had made it more and more difficult for slavers to run a business, but these days Fenris had not been as thorough as he should have. Which is probably why when they arrived they saw the slavers had their cages full of elven women chained and ready to be shipped.

The team dived in, Fenris throwing himself in the heat of battle. But he was the only one in their group trained to handle close combat and the bandages wrapping his chest were so tight he struggled to breathe. More than once, he endured a blow he should have been easily able to parry, more than once his arms failed move fast enough to cleave a slaver he should have torn into pieces minutes ago. By the time the combat was over he was breathless, covered in bruises and cuts, head spinning from the lack of air, ribs lancing with sharp pain.

Hawke all but barrelled down to him, worry written all over his face. “Fenris ! Are you alright ?! Damn it, I should have insisted Aveline drops her patrol to come with us.”

“It’s nothing,” lied Fenris, struggling to keep his sore back straight and catch his breath. He was better than that, Hawke knew he was better than that. He had to justify his weakness lest the Champion suspect something. “There has been a leak in my room, I believe the dampness gave me a cold.”

“Well, at least we know Anders will have a potion for th-…”

“No !”

Hawke rolled his eyes with the usual fond exasperation he often displayed when Fenris and Anders bickered over trivial matters. “Oh, come on, Fenris. I know you too get into fights all the time but it’s been what ? A month ? Two ? I bet whatever he said he’s feeling silly and will apologise. We’ll just make a quick drop and-…”

“I said no ! I am never talking to the Mage again ! And if I see him again I will kill him !” snarled the warrior, growling like the attack dog he loathed to be.

The sheer display of aggression startled Hawke back one step before raising his hands up in peace. Fenris snapped back down, biting down a meltdown of tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He used to be better at this, better at schooling his emotions, better at fighting, better at talking with his friends.

“Uh, guys ?” butted in Varric, awkwardly approaching the two fighting men. “Not to interrupt anything but there’s not a chance in Thedas we can make it back to Kirkwall before nightfall with all these ladies in tow. We have a lot of wounded, sick, at least two pregnant, and so on. I think we should try to make it to the Dalish camp so they can get proper healing and spend the night there. What do you say ?”

Hawke nodded, still unsettled by Fenris’ unexpected behaviour. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”

“That is a sound plan. Forgive me for my outburst, Hawke. It has been… a difficult couple of months for me.”

“We can all see that, Broody,” sighed the Dwarf with a shake of his head. “People don’t hole up in a broken down house for weeks without a good reason but seriously. Whatever your beef is with Anders don’t forget your friends. He’s not coming to Wicked Grace anymore, you know ? So if you were avoiding him you can come back to us. Anyways, these women seem to be quite skittish around Sebastian and I so maybe you can try to bring some elven solidarity to them ?”

Fenris acquiesced, feeling a wave of defeated misery washing over him. “Yes, that is sensible. I’ll go right away.”

The Elf turned heel, his stomach churned and his heart was filled with so much frustration and shame he wanted to bite his own arm off as punishment. He approached the women, Sebastian was trying to soothe them by offering them to join him in prayer, either oblivious or willingly ignoring the Dalish vallaslin several of them wore over their faces.

One of the Dalish women, a tall, dark haired, lady who held herself with dignity despite the ragged clothes she had been forced in, spotted him and walked right past Sebastian to meet Fenris.

“Da’len ! Ma melavhen halani. Halani vhen’him la dirthera shem mana dirth.”

Fenris flinched, lowering his gaze in shame. Of course they would talk to him like one of them, Danarius had made sure his brands marked him as something to be misunderstood. “I apologise. But I do not speak the old tongue.”

“Oh ! Ir abel-… I mean, I sorry. I talk so little the human tongue,” apologised the woman with a heavily accented common. She clearly struggled to find her words, often pausing or stuttering on the sounds. “I like you save us. Will you tell shem to stop talk ? He talk of prayer of God who hate elven. Us suffer enough already.”

Her blunt words startled Fenris and made Sebastian visibly blush in embarrassment as the rest of the elven women giggled.

Fenris politely cleared his throat and turned to the flustered Archer. “I will take it from here, Sebastian. Hawke and Varric need your help searching the camp.”

Sebastian mumbled a stiff ‘thank you’ and hightailed back to the other two men. Fenris watched him almost run away until the woman startled him by resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Ir abe-… I sorry. Can us help with wound yours ?” she asked pointing at the numerous cuts and bruises over his limbs. “You risk great danger for us. Us like you save. Us want help you too. I know spell-…”

“No ! No magic. The… It will hurt me.” explained Fenris pointing at his lyrium brands.

The Dalish brought her hand to her chest, as if she was going through the same pain he had endured and took his bloody, clawed hands between her fingers. “I sorry, friend. Please forgive. If not spell I know herb. Would herb help ?”

The Elf glanced at the women, they were all dressed in the scrappy dresses slavers forced on their captures to dehumanise them, many were scraped, starved, and bruised and yet they now seemed to be all focusing on him instead of their own health.

“I appreciate your concern but I have endured worse. You have your own to care for.”

“Pfah ! You is of us ! Come, Da-… friend. Sit. I back fast.”

And with that the women pulled him in their midst and sat him on a low bench, the Dalish woman rallying some of her people in the old tongue and commanding others to different tasks. A small group of three she led went to a small patch of wild herbs a few paces away. Another of the Dalish translated her orders to the city elf captures and soon they had a fire going, water boiling, a pile of cloth torn into long stripes for bandaging, had dug up a bunch of needles and thread for stitches, and were helping Fenris out of his armour with gentle hands.

Fenris was stunned by this sudden gesture of solidarity. Fenris rarely warranted such display, other elves, whether City Elves or Dalish would sometimes try to make a connection but usually gave up upon realising he was not a part of their community, treating him like an outsider similar to half-blood children.

“I don’t understand,” Fenris blurted out as a dark-skinned girl, barely into adulthood, began to dab a scratch on his arm with gentle taps. “Why are you doing this ? I am not living in the Alienage, I am not Dalish. Why do you all care ?”

The girl looked up at him with eyes dark and shiny like smooth onyx. “Well, for once you saved us.”

“True, but I have saved many would-be slaves. And never have they shown such kindness.”

“I’m sorry to hear. It’s tough for us out there. It’s already difficult enough to be an elf in a world controlled by humans, it is even worse for us girls.”

Fenris’ core clenched in sickness. Again. And by elves. A whole group of them. It was too late. He had hit a point of no return. He was doomed.

“The men, even elves, they like to play it tough, they say things like ‘How dare you call me weak ?!’ and get upset. Sometimes you get smacked for suggesting they need a hand. Usually the bigger the sword the meaner they are. I think we were all relieved to see you were a girl too-… Serah ? Are you alright ?”

Fenris’ head was spinning. The young girl was not wrong. He was the sort of mean big-sword wielder who would get upset, no, furious, at the very prospect of being suggested he needed help. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes to stop the tears from falling, burning in shame and disgust.

“Serah ? Someone, please ! Serah is feeling unwell !”

One of the Dalish ladies hurried with a tin filled with herbal tea wrapped in cloth so it would not burn in his hands. “It’s alright, vhenan. You’ve lost a lot of blood. This brew will fix you right up ! Elgar’athim says we should get a move soon, do you know what your friends intend to do ?”

Fenris accepted the cup and took a sip. It tasted bitter but soothing. It gave him enough warmth to quiet the chills of cold shame inside his veins. Around him the women had settled in a tight circle, chatting casually, exchanging words in both common and Dalish, exchanging tips on the best way to accomplish the tasks they had been assigned to.

Fenris felt a twinge of envy at such simple bonding moment. These women had little in common, slavers rarely took people from similar groups, the more isolated the captures the better. But in spite of their attempt to drive them into isolation they had weaved a tight network among themselves and the slavers were probably none the wiser.

“We will not reach Kirkwall before the night falls. We intend to make our way to the Dalish camp in Sundermount and ask for their hospitality until we are ready to move again.”

“There is a clan nearby ?! Ghilan’nain enansal ! We would be so grateful to be led here ! We will speak to their Keeper on your behalf. They shall reward you for your aid to the Elven people !” cheered the woman gleefully.

Fenris nodded, the women tended to his wounds and by the time they were done Hawke came to tell him they had found nothing regarding Danarius but they were ready to move.

Fenris couldn’t leave any faster.

Chapter Text

They reached Sundermount before dusk. The Keeper welcomed them with open arms and most of the Dalish women elected to stay with the clan save for a handful that had family in the Kirkwall’s Alienage. The women wanted Fenris to stay with them for the night but the Elf declined politely, pretending he had to plan for tomorrow's trip. The women promised to reward him at a later date but Fenris hoped they would do nothing of it. He skipped prayer with Sebastian claiming exhaustion from fighting and spent the whole night staring at the lights and shades dancing over the tent's fabric until dawn dulled them out.

He stayed quiet through the whole trip back to Kirkwall, taking his cut of the bounty before hightailing back to his cellar.

He drank until he vomited and cried in his bathtub.

He swallowed in his misery for a whole week until someone came knocking at his door. He dragged himself out of bed and lumbered down the stairs, expecting Hawke of Sebastian coming to fuss over his shifty behaviour only to be greeted by a congregation of Dalish women led by the dark-haired Keeper he had saved from slavers.

"Friend," she saluted with a solemn bow. "We come with gift. Invite us ?"

Fenris recognised the women from the group though they looked healthier, happier, dressed in Dalish fashion, their arms loaded with baskets of goods. Too stunned to properly react, he mechanically stepped aside and the horde of elves entered his abode.

They looked around for a place to settle down and seemed more annoyed at the dust and spider webs than they were at the mummified corpses in the center of the main hall. A group broke off to find his kitchen while the rest laid blankets over the floor and tossed a scavenged sheet from one of the guests rooms to cover the cadavers.

"You need to care for home, friend. Dust and mold not good for body. I understand shem scarecrow but mould make sickness," commented the Keeper as she led him to sit in their Circle. "You want us clean ? We can help clean."

"No, no, I am keeping this room dirty on purpose to keep intruders away," explained Fenris before the Keeper ordered everyone to deep clean his Mansion. "The rooms I use are clean."

She arched a dubious eyebrow but didn't press further. "Very well. We bring food of friendship and gift. Sit with us, friend."

The smell of food and the faint sizzling sound of frying oil escaped from his kitchen and Fenris felt his mouth water. He could not escape the gaze of the women on him, refusing the food would be a great offense to these people and they seemed all so happy to be around him.

He sat next to the Keeper. He was not washed, he had three doublets on top of another to flatten his burgeoning chest, and probably reeked of wine, dust, sweat, and yet the other elves treated him like an old friend.

"Your hair is so pretty ! So silky ! Why don't you grow it longer ? Don't you want to braid it ?" asked a girl with a braid so long it almost reached her ankles.

Fenris shrunk upon himself as she reached for his locks to pet them. "I... I don't want my hair to be grabbed when I fight. It's not practical."

"You could put them in a bun !" chirped in another one who was missing her left pinkie. "Or scalp braids. My sister does it. But I get it, I keep mine short too, less of a hassle maintaining them."

Fenris felt numb as the women gushed about his hair, his shape, they commented on the multiple layers of doublets, wondering if Fenris had only sleeveless clothes to keep warm until one of them proudly presented him with the most horrendous gift possible.

A sublime white dress with fine golden embroidery.

"I worked all day and night on this piece ! I barely slept to get it all done in time !" chirped the elven woman presenting him with the dress. Her eyes shone like sapphires as she presented him with her gifts, her traits were taunt with exhaustion but they were eclipsed by the burning pride she had for her work and the delight she felt offering her masterpiece. Her aura shook something within Fenris' core, a soft and warm sensation he had forgotten and hidden away. For a second he saw a flash of red hair, a smile, a voice, laughter, but in a blink it had all slipped between his fingers.

He didn't dare refuse her when she invited him to touch the fabric. "I hope it's your size, I took my sewing kit if it needs any adjustment. I couldn't estimate your chest size with your armour so I cut a little wider just in case. You can wear it as is in summer and in the cooler seasons you can just add a woolen cloak to keep warm ! Naherel crocheted you a shawl that should do the trick just fine !"

Fenris traced the fine lines of golden thread and the bead of turquoise, pearl, and green. The stitches were precise, delicate, fine. An ache settled in his fingers as he imagine how hard the girl had worked to get the fabric finished on time, the sting of a needle lost in his memory pickling his finger, the soft sound of thread sliding through fabric.

This was the most beautiful and terrifying thing Fenris had ever beholden.

"Go on ! Try it !" chirped the elven girl.

"Uh ?"

"Try it on ! I want to make make sure it fits !"

Fenris was frozen stiff. All these women were so excited, they had worked hard to bring him presents, were cooking food for him, complimented him, had offered to clean his home, and he was mortified.

If he told them the truth would they feel cheated ? Would they leave ? Would they think less of him ? Never before had other elves been so open to him. He had already saved elves from slavers but they had always been distant, seeing him for the raging mutt he was, not a person worthy of smiles and presents. He hated what they saw of him but he didn't want them to leave.

"You no need change front of us," added the Keeper when he remained rooted on his spot. "We no judge the scar of battle but if no desire show then fine. You change in other room, us make food waiting."

Fenris acquiesced, standing up on wobbly legs, dodging the happy ladies to retreat in his bedroom. He closed the door and considered blocking it with a chair to attempt an escape through the window.

This was too much, he felt wronged in indescribable ways and yet he could not bring himself to run. Where would he go ? To the Chantry ? So sleazy human men could drool over him ? The Hanged Man ? Where everyone would see his changed appearance and comment on 'how much better he looked' ? To the Clinic ? Where Anders could mess with his mind even more ?

He had nowhere to go. Everywhere he went his grotesque and bloated body would follow.

Forcing himself to move he dropped the dress on top of his bed and after a deep inspiration to quell the urge to gag he began undressing. His doublets fell to the ground first, exposing his skin to the cool breeze of the sea.

He still had bruises and scabs from the fight and that was the only part of him that felt right.

Looking away from his body he removed his leggings, leaving himself in his underclothes, confronting the largest monster he had ever faced.

Gritting his teeth he took the dress and slipped it on. The inner fabric had been doubled with a silky soft tissue, so gentle on his markings. He wondered if the Keeper had suggested the seamstress added the padding because of his brands or if she just went the extra mile to offer him something beautiful and pleasant to wear. He tied the laces embracing his abdomen like gentle arms and took a shaky breath as he observed the result.

Fenris needed no mirror to tell it suited him beautifully. The waist was cinched just right, the hem just a few inches above the ground, the sleeves graceful and light stopping just below the crook of his arms in classic Dalish fashion.

By all accounts the dress was wonderful.

It would suit him even better if he grew his hair.

He gagged helplessly, trying to choke down the urge to retch and tear the dress to shreds. He stood silently in his empty room wondering if the Maker was laughing at him right now. What kind of sin had he committed to be punished this way ? Had he not been faithful even in his darkest days ? Had he not resisted the urge to kill himself ? Was he punished for obeying Danarius in slavery ? The Chant claimed that slaves would not be denied His Embrace if they obeyed their Masters even when the deed was evil. He had even confessed everything, much to Sebastian’s horror, but he did confess. Was he being cursed for running away ? Wasn't Shartan a freed elf ? Wasn't he one of the Maker's Apostles ? Was the liberation of elves just Northern propaganda as his Master had claimed ? Would he be returned to his true self if he submitted again ? Would Danarius even take him back in his weakened state ?

A knock startled him out of his ruminations.

"Hello ?" called the seamstress on the other side of the door. "Is everything alright ? Do you need help with the laces ?"

"No. I was... Admiring the dress. It is masterful work." murmured Fenris schooling his voice to remain even.

"Really ?! I'm so glad you think so ! Come on down ! Everyone wants to see !"

Fenris nodded to himself and dragged his feet to the door like a man walking to the gibbet. He opened the door to an overjoyed girl who squealed and jumped in delight.

"You're gorgeous ! Come down ! Come down ! You need to show everyone !"

She snatched his arm and pulled him along, the women cheered and clapped as he arrived in their midst.

"Beautiful ! I love how it falls on your chest !" a woman said as she readjusted the fabric over his shoulders.

"You're so thin tho, are you eating well enough ? Here, take some fried dumplings. You need some meat."

"The colours suit you so well ! You’re going to break necks in the Alienage ! Do you have a suitor yet ?"

Fenris shook his head. He had considered Hawke for a moment but despite the Champion’s friendly and tactile behaviour he had made his exclusive attraction to women clear.

Though maybe, in a cruel twist of fate, he might get interested now.

What a twisted irony.

Only in this body he loathed more than anything else would the first man he had felt attraction for take notice of him.

His heart flooded with grief as tears welled in his eyes. Why was he crying so much ? He had never cried since leaving Danarius and now he was sobbing every five blasted minutes !

"Friend ? What wrong ?" asked the Keeper.

Around him all the women had stopped talking and now gathered around him with intense concern and worry. Never had he allowed himself to slip before Danarius and yet he was so ashamed of his hideous form he was now breaking down in front of a whole assembly.

"Are you okay ?" asked the last girl with her ears drooping low. "Did I say something wrong ? Are you widowed ?"

Fenris sniffed. Feeling his wretched soul crumble upon itself.

"No, you have not... I'm not widowed... I ... I'm not a woman. I'm a man. I've been cursed to look like this... I did not mean to deceive you... But I hate this... I loathe what it's turning me into..."

The seamstress blanched in horror. "Oh no... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

Fenris shook his head and took her nimble hands in his. "Do not apologise. You have done beautiful work and I am grateful to be granted such a masterful work. You have reminded me of someone dear I believe to have forgotten and this is more precious than anything else you could have given me."

The seamstress seemed to relax but still pinched her lips in guilt.

"If it makes you feel better some of us still thought you were a man. Or masculine at least," explained the missing pinkie woman. "There's no word for it in the trade tongue but for us Dalish there's a stronger distinction between man and masculine. We thought you were a 'masculine woman'. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"It terrible curse, friend," acquiesced the Keeper. "I sorry it happen. I know you want no magic but maybe I help ?"

Fenris brought his knees to his chest. What if Anders had told the truth ? What if he truly was female and Danarius had been the one to chose to make him look like a man for his sick pleasure ? Could he live as the thing the Magister has moulded him into ?

"If you hesitate. I know potion to help."

"I would like potions. My... Period is quite painful. A healer said my 'womb' is full of fibrous tissue. And that my 'ovaries' have cysts. Would you know anything about it ?"

The Keeper nodded solemnly. "Yes. It affliction known to me. You require potion for masculine too ?"

"If it is not too much to ask... I cannot say how grateful I am for it."

"And, uh..." the seamstress approached him, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "Maybe I could modify the dress for you ? I can turn it into something more comfortable for you."

Fenris felt his chest swell with with affection and against his better judgement he embraced her. "I would be forever indebted to you. You worked so hard for this."

The girl smiled. "It's alright ! Give it back to me with one of your doublet for size and I'll bring it back when the Keeper comes back with the potions."

"Yes. Good idea. Now partake in good, friend. We still celebrate freedom and friendship."

Fenris waited for the Keeper’s return with baited breath. She had promised potions to help him regain some level of masculinity and he had decided to confront his fear of confirming Anders' diagnosis.

He invited the two women inside, he had prepared a room away from the corpses, set up a table with a few elven snacks he had bought from the Alienage, some of the fancy plates he had not shattered, and even a gold embroidered table cloth and perfumed beeswax candles. The Keeper laid out an assortment of potions, most similar to those he had shattered save for a deep green potion supposed to make him more masculine.

"Two drop under tongue. No swallow. If you touch with hand wash it. Toxic to animals and make children ill."

Fenris held the vial in his hands like the most precious treasure he had been given as he drank up the information. "What if I need more once it’s empty ?"

"Sundermount Clan Keeper can make. She tell you know her old First. She can make too."

Merrill. Fenris was not in a hurry to expose his secret to her or rely on her for supplies.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

"No trouble, friend."

"And I repurposed the dress into a suit, with a special doublet for your chest ! I considered making leggings like the ones you wear but Keeper told me your size could change and since we're leaving soon I went for more ample ones just in case..."

Fenris reached out to rest his palm over her fidgeting hands. Despite the pain the gesture felt easy, soothing, familiar. He smiled, the expression still uncomfortable to him. "I cannot thank you enough for all the efforts you've spent on me. I certainly am undeserving."

"Not at all ! You've saved our lives ! We're forever grateful !"

"Have you think of magic, friend. For curse." butted in the Keeper before the seamstress could whisk him away for a try on.

Fenris acquiesced, retracting his hand. "Yes. I am ready to face the truth. I must warn you, it will be painful to me but I do not wish for you to stop for my sake."

The Keeper nodded. "Very well. I must touch skin. Prepare you."

Fenris opened his doublet just like he did for Anders and took a deep breath as the Keeper pressed her thin and delicate hand onto his stomach.

Just like Anders the investigating magic wormed its way into his flesh, searching for the source of his curse. Fenris gritted his teeth, clenching his fists as the magic caused his lyrium to vibrate and burn.

He felt a gentle hand wrap around his fingers and squeeze. Opening his clenched eyes he saw the seamstress reaching out for him, encouraging him with a tiny smile as her Keeper kept prodding and searching. The Dalish woman was not as cautious as Anders, examining every inch of his body thoroughly despite the excruciating pain it caused.

When she finally released him he nearly fell off his chair.

"I see. It complex. You low organs no modify. Bones a little, the hip, the shoulder, the skull, yes. But flesh mostly chest and face modify. Many magic in you body. Magic of memory too. This one is magic of blood, magic on body just normal magic but very difficult, expensive."

Fenris' shoulders deflated. Anders had been right. Anders Did not lie to him. And now Fenris had to face the truth. Danarius did not make him female. Danarius made him a man. His whole identity had been built on what Danarius had made him out to be.

"I see... I had hoped... It doesn't matter. I need to think."

"Of course. I still help if want. New clan leave in one week. I return then. Safe travel, friend."

Fenris led them to the door and locked it behind them.

What was he supposed to think ? He had lived his entire known life as a man. Everyone knew him as such. He liked being one. In fact, watching his body slowly disintegrate into a female shape had sent him on a spiral of dread he could not even begin to describe. Yet he didn't want to live as something Danarius made him into.

Everything was wrong.

He did need time.

Tomorrow he would visit Sebastian.

Chapter Text

That week, Fenris followed the Keeper's directives like he had Anders' and the relief was almost instantaneous. His features were yet to show any change but he already felt more like himself, he returned to training to recover his lost muscle mass, his confidence restored.

He felt good. And it was rare enough for him to celebrate.

He prepared himself to visit Sebastian after the weekly mass, he was not confident yet facing a crowd.

He waited until he could see the attendants leave the massive white stone building from the window of his house, the sun setting over Kirkwall, before gearing himself up, his new doublet over his chest.

He easily found Sebastian, cleaning up the aisle while the sisters rearranged the altar. The Archer quickly noticed him and beamed at the Elf.

"Oh, Fenris ! My friend ! It's been so long you haven't graced our walls with your presence ! I was hoping you would return !"

"Yes, I... " He scratched the back of his head, he did not want to expand on the reason why he had deserted in the first place but Sebastian trusted him. He could surely make up something. "I am afraid I let my fear get the best of me. I have some questions about the Chant. I was hoping you could enlighten me."

"Of course ! Let me set my broom down, I'll see you upstairs."

Fenris acquiesced and made his way to the confession booth. At this hour the Chantry was blissfully quiet, only a few sisters and mothers strutting about, paying no mind to the quiet elf in the corner.

Sebastian arrived soon after, sitting next to him with a bright smile.

"I must say, my friend, I really like this new doublet. I would have been proud to wear one so fine were I still a Prince. I hear you've received some visit from those elven women we rescued, is it a gift from them ?"

"Yes. They were quite grateful."

"Such a shame they didn't extend their gratitude to the Chantry. I was there too after all ! Oh well, I suppose that Dalish woman had them wrapped around her finger. I hope they didn't try to enroll you into their clan, did they ? They are probably looking for some men capable of fighting. But given how they reacted to my prayers I doubt they would let you preach the Chant to them."

Fenris shook his head. "No. They merely came with gifts and some food. They did not try to recruit me."

"Good ! I could not bear to have you stray from the Light. Enlightened elves are so rare, the Maker does say your kind tends to wander but I'm glad you know where your place is."

Fenris bristled, he remembered that part of the Chant, the Magisters used it often to justify their dominion over the elven kind. To remind them of their places. Just like that verse Anders kept reciting.

He pushed the idea away from his head. It was just a poor choice of words. Nothing more. Sebastian wanted only the best for him. The salvation of his soul. His suspicious words were nothing but warranted worry from a friend.

"No. It has nothing to do with them. Though their visit was a balm and I am grateful for it. I suppose you shall be relieved to know they are departing soon."

"Oh, well, I suppose this is what the Dalish does," shrugged Sebastian, indifferent about the fate of these women. "We can't expected them to build a town and stick around. But back to your questions."

Fenris hummed, he had rehearsed this and yet at the crucial moment his words eluded him. He bent forward, arms resting over his knees as he steeled his mind.

"What does the Chant say about... the alteration of one's body ?"

Sebastian scratched his chin. "Well. The Chant says one's body is the reflection of the love of the Maker for them and should be cherished and loved like the Maker Himself. Thus it would be a great insult on the Maker to modify or damage it."

"Yes, but... What if the person who has been... damaged has been without their consent. Maybe even knowledge. Would it be a sin then to... Accept it ? Do nothing about it ? Keep things the way they are ?"

"Is this about your lyrium, my friend ? The Maker will not judge you for these." pondered the Brother with a frown.

"No," denied the elf, digging his thumb into the markings to ground himself. "It is about something much more... Intimate."

How could he make Sebastian answer his question without revealing too much ? Did he want Sebastian to know ? Surely he would keep the secret but would he judge him ? What would the Maker demand him to do ? If his original body was that of a woman then shouldn't he demand to revert to it ? After all... Its alteration was an insult.

But as he dug his nails into a lyrium line another question barged into his mind.

Did he even care ?

It was agony to live as a woman. It was punishment. It was wrong. He had lived so long as a man he did not remember any other existence for himself. He might have been born a woman but the moment Danarius erased his memories and modified his body he was born anew. It would be unjust to ask him to revert to a state he no longer remembered, a state he loathed for its unfamiliar contours.

As he looked up at the massive statue of pale marble he realised Andraste did not care what he did. She was nothing. She was marble. One day the Chantry would crumble like the Ancient Dalish Gods fell, like the Old Tevinter Gods fell, like all the Older Gods long forgotten whose names had grown silent.

It didn't matter what the Chant say. The Chant was just another Master, with a new set of chains, here to remind him of his place.

He was about to stand up and leave when Sebastian spoke again.

"Fenris ? Is this about Anders ?"

The Elf startled and turned to the Brother who gazed upon him with his cold blue eyes.

"What ?"

"Is this about Anders ? The reason why you're avoiding him ? Did he touch you, Fenris ? Did he touch you without your consent ?"

Sebastian tried to reach for him but Fenris sprung to his feet, putting some distance between the two of them.

"No ! He-... I was not violated !"

But instead of dropping the topic Sebastian looked at him with the saddest look of pity one could ever address to another living being.

"Oh, Fenris. Whatever the reason if you were not conscious for it is was still violation. Is this why you stayed upset for so long ? Why you've been locking yourself up and acting so dodgy ?"

Fenris smacked his hand away before it could touch him. "No ! I told you ! I was not violated ! The Mage did not-... Drop this ! And don't speak a word of it !"

The Elf turned heels and bolted out of the Chantry, ignoring the raised eyebrow his outburst caused as he rushed for the safety of his house.

He slammed the door shut behind him, breathing hard and aching.

Kaffas !

He needed to think !

He needed to think of a way to explain himself and clear the Mage's name without saying too much. At least Sebastian was bound by the oath of secrecy. A minor comfort for a terrible situation.

He let himself fall to the floor, turning the cogs in his head.

Tomorrow was Wicked Grace night. He would go to the Mage and apologise for his poor reaction, tell him he had been too shocked to accept the truth. Hopefully Anders would understand and agree to keep helping him. After all, no matter how antagonistic towards each other they were the Mage had always put aside their differences when it came to medical issues.

Yes. That's what he would do. Talk to the Mage, show that whatever dispute the others imagined between them it was in the past, then he would explain Sebastian that Danarius had changed parts of his body outside of the lyrium to suit his personal tastes and Anders had offered to help him with it, which was not a lie, but the discovery had been too shocking to process.

That sounded fine.

He sighed and pinched his brow.

It was time to put this whole situation to rest.

With his plan ready he went to bathe the crashed in bed.

Everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

Fenris wore his new clothes to Wicked Grace night and didn't hide them behind his usual gear save for his claws which helped him lessen the pain of manipulating items. Though he didn't want his new clothes soiled with beer or grease from the snacks Isabela tossed when she lost a hand or feel vulnerable without his armour, he also wanted to show them off. They did look beautiful. The ivory blouse had a high decorated collar, ample sleeves tied at the wrists that echoed the flowing pants, while the golden doublet slimmed his silhouette and gave the illusion of a perfectly flat chest. He looked like a rich elven merchant, he must be the fanciest elf in all of the Free Marches.

He was fidgety and loathed himself for it. He had to steel himself, stay calm. Anders was bound to be hurt and act like a prick and Fenris had to maintain a cool head to present his apologies. He rehearsed his speech in his head one more time and pushed open the Hanged Man's door.

It had been months since he had set foot inside. His nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of rancid stew and cheap ale, his ears by the thunderous rumble of drunkards laughing and chugging their alcohol. It was dirty, stinky, too hot, too noisy, but it was familiar, soothing even.

"Fenris !"

He startled, Hawke was walking in his direction with Sebastian in tow, waving at him with a strange smile on his face.

They were early, very early. Hawke often showed up late and Sebastian often preferred the Chantry's silence to the loud debaucheries of the tavern. Regardless, they were not the people Fenris had hoped to meet first.

"Hawke." greeted the elf with a stiff nod.

The Champion smiled back, but not his usual grin, something more guarded, more controlled. Fenris felt an uncomfortable chill trickle down his spine.

"Fenris, we just wanted to tell you. Sebastian and I have taken care of your problem."

The Elf arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "My problem ? Unless you've killed Danarius without my knowledge I find that hard to believe."

"No, no, not Danarius but probably just as bad. We're talking about Anders."

Fenris felt his entire being snap like Hawke had just smacked him across the face.

"The Mage ? What does the Mage has to do with anything ? Sebastian ?"

The Prince averted his eyes, guilt dripping from his elegant features. "I'm sorry, Fenris. But I couldn't stand idly by doing nothing. I mean, you're my friend ! After what you told me I had to do something."

"I told you nothing ! You misconstrued my words ! Hawke ! What did you do ?! What have you done to the Mage ?!"

"Well... We didn't want him to hurt you or anybody else so we called the Templars-..."

Fenris did not wait to hear any more of the sentence. He heard Sebastian and Hawke call for him but he did not look back. Activating his markings he rushed to Darktown at unnatural speeds, ignoring the tear in his muscles from the exertion, the burn of the lyrium flashing onto the dim path to the city's underbelly.

He heard the Templars before he even reached the Clinic. The were shouting, laughing. He leaped through the opening left by the shattered door to find a veritable battleground. Half the cots were shattered or upturned, so were the shelves of potions and racks of drying plants, Anders' grimoire had been torn and pages of fine velum soaked in the mud, and yet the destruction showed little signs of magical battle.

Fenris couldn't explain it.

Why wouldn't Anders fight back ?

"Hey ! You ! Elf !" barked a Templar recruit holding the elderly woman and a pair of the children who helped at the Clinic hostage with his sword. "Stay back ! This is a Templar matter ! We are proceeding to an apostate's arres-..."

The bucket head flew off before he could finish his sentence, making the children and woman squeal in terror.

He could still hear laughter, and a very, very faint whimper. The Templars were in the back room, where Anders had first examined him. Fenris prayed all the Gods that the Mage still lived.

With his bloody sword at the ready he dashed at Anders' rescue.

He did not wait to take in the room, maybe he should have but he did not care. He just needed to cut and slice everything clad in steel and crimson.

His sword pierced through plate armour to end its course drilling a massive hole into the wall. The Templar gave a brief gargling noise and struggle before he slumped dead. Fenris cursed as his sword stayed stuck, dropping it and grabbing for his dagger.

Two other Templars struggled into the tight space to grab their discarded weapons. They had no helmets and Fenris exploited this weakness, swiping his sharp blade across their eyes. His lyrium was agony and flickered uselessly when he tried to pull on it. He dodged the clumsy shield bash and stabbed the exposed neck of the first man until he gurgled a spray of bubbling blood. The second one stumbled behind the elf, forcing Fenris to trip over his dead comrade. The blind Templar's sword slashed across Fenris' arm, ripping his dagger out of his hand. The warrior screamed in rage and clawed at the silver breastplate. The half-buckled piece gave under his gauntlets, leaving the intruder exposed. Fenris dived behind the enemy and snatched a lost sword to plunge in the Templar's chest.

The man fell with a final twitch, leaving Fenris the last man standing. The soldiers' gear was half undone, bit and pieces abandoned on the wrecked potion shelves. But Fenris didn't ponder why for long.

Anders was curled up on the table, his clothes had been torn to shreds, his boots the only thing covering him save for a band of fabric used to bind his arms behind his back. His body was covered in bruises and shallow cuts on top of a mountain of ancient scars. Fenris scrambled for his dagger to undo the ties and pulled the Mage closer to his chest.

"Mage ! Mage ! Anders ! Speak to me !"

The Healer was shaking and unresponsive against him but at least he breathed. His mouth stank of magebane and nausea, explaining his comatose state. The elf laid him back down and went to fetch something to cover the Mage with when he fell face to face with the elderly woman brandishing Anders' staff like a great hammer.

"I don't know who you are, young man, but you better leave our healer alone !"

Fenris held up his hands. "I am a friend of the Healer. I am a companion of the Champion," Fenris winced at his mention. Hawke had been the one to set the Templars on Anders but hopefully the woman didn’t know. "Listen, woman. I need someone to send a message to Varric, a dwarf at the Hanged Man, the one who often comes by. Tell him to bring reinforcements. Templars will not take long to send more men."

The old crone glared at him but still lowered the staff. "Ticky ! You run faster ! You go ! Now, where is the Healer ?"

"In the backroom. He is... Exposed. I need a sheet, clothes, something to cover him so I can bring him to his bed chambers."

The elder snatched a bedsheet off a nearby shattered cot and shoved it in the elf's arms. "Get him ! I'll gather whatever healing potion those idiots haven't destroyed and tend to him."

The Elf acquiesced and returned in the examination room to get Anders. Only then did he notice. Anders' crotch was bloodied but what caught Fenris' eye was what was missing.

Anders had no phallus, no testes...but they had not been cut off by some cruel hands. No. He looked just like Fenris.

Fenris pressed his forehead to the Mage's temple and gathered his thin body into his arms.

Oh, Mage. Why didn't you tell me ?

He wrapped him in the sheet and took him to the room the Healer called his chambers and set him down on the rickety cot he called a bed. The old hag and the urchin followed, helping him settle the Healer properly and starting to tend to his wounds.

"Fenris !"

The voice was not Varric's, and it tore a warning growl from the Elf's throat. He stood, dagger in hand, and went to face the person responsible for this entire mess.

"Hawke."

Sebastian was there too, trailing behind the Champion. He too was guilty of the harm the Mage had suffered.

"Fenris ! Bless the Maker you're alright ! Why did you run off like that ?"

"I ran to prevent those bastards from killing our Healer and friend, Hawke ! How dare you sell him out to them ?!"

Hawke blinked, looking at the Elf as if he had grown a second head. "But Fenris, he raped you !"

"He did not ! You've made up a story in your head and decided to act upon it without taking my opinion into consideration !"

"But you told Sebastian you had been raped ! And you've been upset at Anders for over a month !"

Fenris let out a shout of frustration and rage. "Not by the Mage ! By Danarius ! Danarius is the one who violated me ! He changed my body to suit his personal tastes ! Anders had offered help but I was… I reacted violently to the discovery of the extent of Danarius’ tampering ! The Mage did nothing wrong except for trying to help me !"

"Fenris, my friend," tried Sebastian, looking paler by the second. "You don't have to find excuses for this Abomination. He tricked you into believing him, I’m certain it is not as he claims."

"Vishante Kaffas ! You won't believe my words ?! Fine ! You will believe your eyes !" And before either men could react Fenris snatched his clothes off and bared his body to them. His burgeoning tits and infuriating cunt revealed to his companions.

He wanted to tear himself to shreds, shout in impotent rage. His new clothes were drenched in blood, the shirt's sleeve damaged in the fight, both resting in the watery mud of Darktown.

"There !" barked Fenris, fighting to stop his voice from shaking. "Is your curiosity satisfied now ?!"

Hawke's jaw was on the floor and Sebastian had turned his head away, sheltering his eyes with his raised hands.

"Fenris." mumbled the Champion taking a step closer to him.

Fenris looked at him, hoping he would understand, hoping it was enough to make him understand the err of his way. He should, right ? Anders had been his friend, healed him free of charge, watched his back in the Deep Roads, trusted him with his secrets, surely he would understand...

Hawke's face cracked a large, burning smile and embraced the elf. "You're a woman !"

"What ?!" Fenris shoved Hawke away, the Champion completely elated by the horrendous discovery he had just made.

"You're a woman ! Why did you hide this ? I'm so glad ! I could have never dated an elven man but if you're a woman we can-..."

The back of Fenris' hand smacked across the bearded jaw, sending Hawke reeling and falling back on his arse from the strength of the slap.

Hawke looked back at him with big, stupid, owlish eyes, holding his bloodied cheek as if Fenris' reaction was the least expected one, like he did not understand.

And of course he did not. Hawke could not understand. Hawke was a Chantry devout on the same level as Sebastian. He believed the Maker had made each body perfect at birth, he believed Man should marry Woman and have Children, he believed Magic was inherently sinful, he believed Elves had turned away from the Maker’s Light and were not capable of making their own decisions. He believed slaves like Fenris should remain faithful to their Masters to gain absolution in the Afterlife.

Why did Fenris ever believe he ever could ?

Wrinkled hands slid a familiar feathery coat over his shoulders. "Don't expose yourself like that, young man. There are children in there."

Fenris turned to the old woman, her eyes were filled with understanding and sadness. She gestured towards the backrooms before bending to pick up his discarded clothes. She must have known for the Mage, she must have known and she still treated him as a man, still saw him, and by extension Fenris, as one.

Fenris slipped the coat on to hide his body in silence as Sebastian helped pick up Hawke from the floor.

"Broody !"

Varric barged in, Bianca at the ready, with Isabela and Merrill in tow.

"We came as fast as possible ! Where's Blondie ?! What happened ?!"

"He's in the back, he's alive," explained Fenris, keeping the mantle's flaps closed with his arms. "You can thank Hawke and Sebastian for the Templar raid. They are the ones who set them on the Mage."

Isabela snapped her head to the two retreating men. "WHAT ?!"

"We were trying to protect Fenris ! She's a woman and Anders has been trying to convince her otherwise !" protested Sebastian.

Fenris snarled, ready to maul the Chantry Brother when Merrill stopped his lunge calmly. "It's alright, Lethallin. Let us deal with this."

The Pirate turned dark with unfathomable rage, her eyes burning with the fury of the seas as she shoved herself in the Archer's face. "EX-FUCKING-CUSE ME ?!"

Sebastian flinched but bravely attempted to stand his ground. "Fenris came to us telling us she had gotten into an argument with Anders and if the Maker would be upset if she went along with the modifications Danarius made to make her appear like a male ! The Apostate has been trying to force her into changing her body like Danarius did !"

"Oh, I will throttle you ! Open your ears carefully, Chantry boy,” growled the Rivaini as she snatched Sebastian’s spotless collar and pulled him into her face. “I have a massive cock between these legs of the likes you have never seen and so does Merrill ! And if you ever try to call us 'men' I will do such horrendous things to you that you will never have to worry about your vow of Celibacy ever again !"

Fenris jumped out of his skin, his eyes running between both Merrill and Isabela in quick succession. The Witch simply smiled as she always did as if Isabela had not revealed a crucial piece of information about her.

"Yes, I know it doesn't show," she giggled at him. "But we do have our ways in the Dalish."

Varric shook his head with a sigh. "And you do buy into that 'Original Body' bullshit too, Hawke ? I must say, I'm disappointed in you."

"Why would you say that, Varric ? The Maker commands us to accept our bodies as they are ! Don't tell me that you too-..."

"Have a cunt ? I do. Deep Mushrooms work great on me. I've been supplying Blondie with ingredients for years now and he brews the potions. I can't believe you never caught up on that, I mean, I still can't grow a beard. Unlike Broody I didn't even make it a secret."

Flabbergasted was nowhere near close enough to describe how both Hawke and Fenris felt.

“I-is everyone here like this but Sebastian and me ?”

Varric shrugged. “As far as I know Aveline is the same as you.”

“The irony ! She’s manlier than both of you !” guffawed Isabela with a demeaning grin.

“I can’t speak for Donnic. And it’s none of my business anyways. They do their things and I’m doing mine. I thought you were fine with this, most of Thedas is outside of Chantry zealots. I knew you were a Maker’s boy but I wanted to believe you still had two nugs worth of brains. Even Carver had guessed.”

“Carver knew ?!”

Varric shook his head and brushed his forehead. “Ask him if you don’t believe me. I can’t believe you did not realise. Fenris, I can understand. Tevinter sounds like a tough place for the likes of us. Anyways, I think it’s better if you leave for now. And don’t come to the Hanged Man unless you’ve returned to your senses. I won’t hesitate to set Bianca on you.”

Fenris watched the two men he thought he could trust retreat with their tails between their legs. How did he even believe they could understand ? Thinking back how could he even believe the Chantry ever wanted the best for him and his fellow slaves ? The Fathers always insisted that 'Slaves should follow their Master’s words like those of the Maker'. They had been the ones praising obedience, shunning rebellion, discourage escapes. They had been the ones giving blessings to Danarius and merely promising his slaves they would be promised freedom in the Golden City. As if Danarius or any other Magister would renounce their rights to puppeteer their precious slaves in the Afterlife.

He was a fool.

"Broody ? You alright there ?"

Fenris turned to Varric, holding the flaps of Anders coat tight around his body. A breeze was slipping inside through the numerous holes of this hideous thing. How did the Mage not freeze to death using this as a blanket on their trips ? Did he leave all the blankets at the Clinic when Hawke fetched him ? Fenris had assumed the ugly coat was at least warm but it couldn't possibly retain heat. How could the Mage care about the fate of the mages kept warm in the Circle when he himself was so badly left off ?

"No," he answered truthfully. "I feel like an fool. This is all my fault..."

Merrill patted his feathered shoulder with an empathetic smile. "It is not, Lethallin. You could not have known."

"Well, it is a bit your fault. You're a tit for not coming to us," pointed Isabela as she rearranged her hair, her raven mane puffy with electricity from her rage-induced tantrum. "Seriously ! We could have helped you ! Why go to those Chantry nuts ?!"

Fenris lowered his eyes, his ears drooping in shame. "In Tevinter, the Chantry was one of my only comforts. It was the only place who offered slaves some form of reprieve. Violence and sex were strictly forbidden within the Chantry's walls and the Fathers promised us freedom in the arms of the Maker if we obeyed our Masters and their teachings. I should have seen them for what they were. Convenient lies. But I... I suppose I was still seeking safety from Danarius even in his absence. Still hoped there was something greater protecting me. Only now do I realise this was just another Master, another leash."

"Oh, Lethallin. I'm so sorry..."

Varric sighed, kicking a bit of broken wood. "Look, it's in the past. Why don't you stay with Anders until he's better ? I'll get some mercs to clean up this place and move it. This location isn't safe anymore."

Fenris acquiesced. "I will move the Mage to the Mansion once he's fit to move. I'm grateful, Varric."

"Kitten and I will keep watch until then. Give us a shout if you need anything."

Fenris watched his friends hop above the broken door before turning his heels and returning to the Mage. The old woman was there, washing his stained clothes in the bucket the Mage used to cleanse himself with her rugged hands while the urchin with her was glaring at Anders with intense focus. The Healer was still unconscious, wrapped in the bed sheet, his visible body had been cleaned and some dressing applied to his wounds. Another wave of guilt washed over the Elf as he saw the blooming bruises over the pale skin.

The hag looked up at him and huffed.

"You need to be more careful with your clothes, young man. It will take me a while to get the stains out. Such fine work... If not for old Ethel it would be ruined forever."

"I am grateful for your aid, woman, but I can take care of it."

She dismissed him with a stern wave. "Don't think about it. I don't trust you boys within a mile of a needle. The Healer might be good at sewing people's skins but when it comes to fabric he's catastrophic."

Fenris chuckled despite himself, slipping a finger into one of the numerous holes in the coat. "I see what you mean."

A moment of silence interrupted only by Ethel's grumbling as she scrubbed a stubborn stain stretched between them. During the brief discussion the urchin, an elven boy roughly five years of age, had not blinked even once from his surveillance.

Fenris took a step closer to the cot and the child. "How is he ?"

The elven child did not answer, fixated on the Healer.

"Child ?"

"Shoe ! Go clean the Clinic. The Elf will watch the Healer. Scream if someone comes in."

The urchin snapped out of his trance and scampered off, leaving Fenris even more puzzled.

"Don't wrack your brain with him. His mother worked in the foundry when she was heavy with him, breathing all the fumes day in and day out. He was born stupid and too soon, left on the doorstep of the Clinic in a shoe. Poor thing was so small. Healer wasn't sure he would make it."

"The Mage adopted him ?"

"Nah, he has too much work and he's afraid Templars would take the kids if they stayed with him and shove them in those awful Chantry orphanages. He takes care of abandoned and orphaned babes until they are out of danger and finds them families. I took in Ticky and Shoe. They need supervision most of the time, they can't have working parents."

Fenris nodded, he had not expected Anders to be the sort to fuss over crying infants all day and night. Fenris imagined him with a baby slinged over his chest, shushing them as they cried, feeding them with his hair mussed up with sleep, cleaning their small little bodies in his bucket. Anders already slept so little.

"I realise I know so little about him... I am ashamed of my own negligence."

Ethel shrugged. "You weren't the one showing up most often. Even if you did he would probably downplay it as a one time thing. Without me this idiot would run himself into the ground."

Fenris sat on the edge of the cot, observing the Mage as he breathed. He snaked his hand under the sheet to find the long, pale fingers of the Healer and rested his palm over them.

The old woman decided to give them space and moved her ancient bones and the bucket of soapy water to the next room.

He stood watch with unwavering devotion until the Mage finally stirred and blinked awake.

"...Where ?"

"In your Clinic, Mage. What’s left of it. We can't stay for long. The area is no longer secure." answered Fenris, giving Anders' hand an encouraging squeeze.

Anders' eyes finally turned toward the Elf, but not fully focusing on him, just gazing blindly in his general direction. The Mage could barely keep them open, Fenris might have to carry him to safety if they were to leave before the next hour.

"Fenris ? I thought I sensed you... How ? How did you know ?"

Fenris' eyes shied away from the glassy amber eyes, shame and guilt creeping up his spine. "It is my fault this happened, Mage... It is my fault the Templars came here..."

Anders' fingers escaped his grasp, the wounded man struggling to push himself away on the minuscule cot. "What ?! It was you who sent them here ?! Do you even know what they accused me of ?! They accused me of being a dirty blood mage rapist ! They wanted to make me suffer the same torment they thought I had put you through ! Is this what you told them ?! That I raped you ?!"

The words ripped a hurt whimper out of Fenris' throat. He deserved this, he should have been more brave and talked to Anders instead of running off to Hawke and Sebastian.

"I'm sorry... It was never my intent... I was hurting and miserable. I tried to talk to Hawke and Sebastian about my situation but they misinterpreted everything."

"What do you mean ? How could they misinterpret 'Anders offered to help me and I insulted him on my way out like the massive prick that I am' into 'Anders has sexually assaulted me and deserves to suffer the same fate then be made tranquil or hanged' !"

"I... I asked what the Chant would say about people like me... Like us... If the Maker would allow me to live as a man. I asked if the Maker would blame me if I went along with the modifications done to me but they thought I was accusing you of harming me."

Anders groaned, falling back down on his cot and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Andraste's hairy cunt ! Of all the people you could ask you had to ask those two zealots. Anyone could have helped you figure yourself out better than them..."

"I wanted to apologise to you for my previous behaviour tonight but instead Hawke and Sebastian announced me they had sicced the Templars upon you. I ran as fast as I could, I'm sorry I got there too late to protect you from their sick assault... I am undeserving of your forgiveness but please, at least let me get you to safety then you will never see me again."

Anders huffed, lowering his arms down with a wince. "Well, lucky you you got there in the nick of time so I guess I'll have to forgive you."

Fenris looked back to the Mage, his chest swelling with cautious hope. "But you were bleeding."

"Yeah, bastards nicked me with their daggers when they cut off my smalls. I'm fine, if you exclude the upcoming magebane hangover, dozen bruises and scraps... and I think a broken rib."

The Elf let out an audible sigh of relief, bowing his forehead to the Mage's shoulder. Anders reached out and patted his head, offering a comfort he did not deserve.

"There, there, it's alright, Fenris. You're not the one who sent the Templars. I mean, sure, you could have handled things better but you're not the one who thought I was dangerous enough to kill."

Fenris' fingers curled into the bed sheet. He had gotten the Mage hurt, poisoned, his good name blackened by their friends, his Clinic destroyed, Templars sent to torture him. He pressed his nose to his neck in a submissive plea. "You should not dispense your forgiveness so freely, I am unworthy. Will you let me work to earn it ? Will you come with me to the Mansion until we have you set up elsewhere ?"

"Well. It will certainly be better than my current arrangements. May I just ask you a question first ?"

Fenris lifted his face from the Mage's neck to look him in the eyes. "Anything. What would you like to know ?"

"Why are you wearing my coat ?"

"Ah," Fenris felt his cheeks warm up. He had almost forgotten his current state of undress. "My clothes have been damaged. Your domestic offered to fix them for me and gave me your coat to wear in the meantime."

"My... Domestic ? Wait, you mean old Ethel ?! She spontaneously offered to fix your clothes ? Just like that ?"

Fenris tilted his head in confusion and frowned. "Yes ? Is this out of character for her ?"

Anders groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's a hag. I healed her once and she decided to spend her days in the clinic shouting at me for not keeping things tidy enough. As if I even have the time to clean up things instantly when fourteen people are throwing up on the floor ! What does she thinks I am ?! Magic ?! I mean, I'm grateful she took in Ticky and Shoe and does the laundry but anytime she's not busy she's just being a pain in my arse and a menace to me and the Clinic."

Fenris' mind sent into a panic, imagining the beautiful embroidery ruined by bony fingers.

"Does that mean... I should not have let her take my clothes ?"

Anders shook his hand. "No, no, don't worry. She's a marvel when it comes to laundry. You'll recover them fresher than they ever have been. Oh, wait, have you been injured ? I don't have any mana yet but there must be some potion they haven't smashed !"

"Just a scratch, Mage. You should worry about yourself." pointed the elf, pressing on a fresh bruise over the Mage’s cheekbone with his finger.

"Ouch ! Alright, alright. Look, I should have a spare tunic in my chest. Could you hand it to me ? I'll get my things ready and you can take me to your Mansion. I don't want to be caught stark naked when the Templar reinforcements arrive."

Fenris acquiesced and went to the chest Anders had pointed out. It was dreadfully empty, a tunic, two spare pants, an embroidered pillow, a couple of trinkets, and a Tevinter Chantry amulet.

Fenris picked it up and stared at it. It was a well made piece, must have belonged to some Tevinter slaver they killed. Few slavers or Magisters genuinely sported signs of worship, they must have been devout. Fenris would have killed to have such an amulet once.

"Fenris ?"

The elf tossed the amulet to Anders. "You should crush it. You deserve better than the lies they spew. You would hate the things they promote, even in Tevinter."

"But it's a gift from Haw-... Uh, you know what, it's real silver. I'll have it melted and turned into something else. But you're right, I suddenly don't feel so good about any form of Chantry idol."

Fenris nodded and handed the tunic to the Mage. It was thin from wear, the fabric itchy like old wool, and the hem was torn in several places.

"When we get to the Mansion I will hand you some robes to wear. This is ridiculous."

Anders snorted as he slipped the tunic on. "You would have me dressed like a Magister ?

"I would have you dressed in decent robes. I already sold out all the formal and ceremonial clothes for coin. I must say, I dislike the Southern fashion. It's all so shameless."

"Didn't take you for a fashion expert," mumbled the Mage as carefully pulled the fabric to cover his legs before setting foot out of the bed. "Do you think you could find a potion or two ? I'll be done packing in a minute."

Fenris gave Anders a stiff bow and ran off. Ethel was done with his clothes, using Anders' staff as a drying rack, and Fenris had to admit they did seem spotless and the tear had been mended. She handed him the potions Anders requested but she did moan when Fenris insisted he would wear the damp clothes on his way back.

When he returned, dressed back into his moist clothes, Anders was sitting on his cot, giving himself a check up with a meager bundle laying by his side.

"Let's go, Mage. The sooner we're out of Darktown the better."

Despite the regenerative potion, Anders limped heavily on their way up to Hightown, he had insisted Fenris kept his coat on as the damp clothes left him shivering from the cold. Fenris was beyond caring but he did not complain, offering his shoulder for Anders to lean onto in exchange despite the burning soreness in his own body.

Merrill and Isabela left to help Varric, leaving him to protect the Mage. Hawke and Sebastian would know Anders was with him, he could only hope the two men would not dare send the Templars to his home. He would slaughter them if they did.

By the time they were within the Mansion's walls Anders was so exhausted he almost passed out in his arms. He barely argued when Fenris swiped him off his feet to take him upstairs. He laid the Mage onto his bed and pulled the soft comforters over his lanky body.

The potion should kick in soon, and when his mana returned the Mage would be quick to fix his injuries. In the meantime Fenris set his moist clothing to properly dry and busied himself by mending the Mage's coat, merging it with a fine teal robe to reinforce the inner layer.

He would watch over Anders until Templars dropped the case and Varric gave them the clear.

Chapter Text

Living with Anders turned out a lot easier than expected. After the first day hungover from magebane intoxication the Mage turned out to be a most gracious guest. Fenris moved him to a guest room but in the end they often both fell asleep in front of the fireplace in Fenris' room.

He gushed over the fine needlework of his repaired coat and pretended to be offended when Fenris playfully insulted the terrible pauldrons, he helped with the food and laundry, began renovating the abandoned garden to grow his medicinal herbs, cleaned the rooms with the exception of the main hall in which Fenris displayed his corpses, and held most agreeable conversation. Turns out that when the Mage had his stomach full, his hair washed, and his mind fully rested and free of the worries of the Clinic and the Mage Underground he was a lot more patient and friendly.

Fenris caught himself chuckling along with the Mage's jokes and actually listening to his arguments who sounded a lot less demented when he was not struggling to stop himself from bursting at the seams. He also seemed a lot more understanding of Fenris' struggles, now that he knew more about their extend, and turned out to be a decent listener. The Elf did end up narrating the saving of the elven women, simply because he thought the Mage would be very amused by their attitude towards Sebastian.

"Ah, I should mention. The Dalish Keeper who helped me is rather wary of humans. Do you mind waiting in your room when she comes visit ?" asked the Elf as they shared a mixed plate of cheese and dried fruits in their usual spot.

"Not at all. But I prefer to make myself busy in the garden if that’s alright ?"

Fenris nodded. Anders did seem to avoid his room, or at least being alone in it, and even if it intrigued the elf he would not pry unless Anders offered an explanation.

They chatted a little in front of the fireplace until someone knocked on the main door. Anders excused himself and retreated to the gardens while Fenris went to open the door.

But instead of the stern Dalish lady he was greeted by two familiar unwelcoming faces. Fenris squared himself, crossing his arms and blocking the entrance to his house, hoping neither of the Chantry zealots had caught sight of Anders making his way back.

"Hawke. Sebastian."

"Fenris," greeted Hawke with an awkward grin on his face. "Listen, I know you're mad but I was hoping we could talk ?"

The human mage clearly expected Fenris to move aside and let him in. He would have to be disappointed.

"I'm listening." hissed the Elf after a few awkward moments of silence buzzed past them like fat summer flies.

Hawke deflated and Sebastian cleared his throat. "My friend, you have to understand our point of view. You've been acting so cagey since your fallout with the Abomination-..."

"His name is Anders and you shall address him as such." growled Fenris with a menacing flash of teeth.

Sebastian flinched at the open display of aggression but quickly regained his countenance. "Well, you've been so cagey since your fallout with the Apostate, and we were trying to help you-"

"By drawing hasty conclusions and using me as an excuse to take out an inconvenient friend, betraying both his trust and mine."

"We were not trying to betray you ! We wanted to save you !" protested Hawke.

"By going behind my back ! By sending assassins to kill the only man kind enough to heal the refugees like yourself free of charge !"

Sebastian gasped. "Templars are not assassins ! They are servants of the Chantry !"

Fenris' eyes flashed red and his face distorted with animal furry as he barked a warning snarl. "Do you know what your 'servants of the Chantry' were doing in that Clinic ?! After thrashing precious resources they took an old woman and two orphaned children hostage, then they decided to inflict upon Anders the same debased cruelty you believed he had thrust upon me ! I would not have been surprised to see a Magister act this way. And let me tell you, for having served one for all these years, neither of these people carry the will of the Maker."

"That's not-... Templars wouldn't do this ! They are Champions of the Just !"

"Your Champions of the Just are nothing more than wild animals. Even as a slave I wouldn't have stooped so low."

"Oh, come on, Fenris. Carver is a Templar, surely you don't think he's like them !"

"No. I don't believe your brother who's hopelessly enamoured with a blood mage is as filthy as these men. But since you mention him maybe you should ask him what his brethren are up to. I'm certain his input would be enlightening."

Hawke clamped his mouth shut, chewing on his words for a few seconds before speaking again. "No, you must have misunderstood what they were doing. They answer to the Knight-Commander and the Grand Cleric, they wouldn't allow such base behaviour."

"Pfah, as I thought ! You don't really care what I say. You doubt my every word when they inconvenience you !" scoffed the Elf.

"Don't say this, Fenris ! You're our friend !"

"If you were my friends you would not have gushed about being able to fuck me upon discovering what I have between my legs !"

The blood drained from Hawke's face. "That's not-... That's not what I meant ! I thought you were interested ! I can only be with a woman ! And I'm the heir to the Amell house, I need to have offspring."

"Ah, apologies. Let me correct myself then. A real friend would not have gushed about being able to breed me !"

The words smacked Hawke harder than the clawed slap had, making him heave in disgust at his own words.

"N-no, I... I never meant to say..."

"It does not matter what you meant to say. This is how you see me. I’m not a person, I’m a body. Pfah ! I don't know which one of us is the biggest fool. Me, for thinking you would see me as anything more than something to take, or you, for not even realising it. Leave, Hawke. You too, Sebastian. And don't come back here. Next time you show up at my door I will greet you with my blade."

Not waiting for an answer he slammed the door shut, making as much noise as possible pulling the lock before pressing his forehead to the wood panel. He was feeling sick to his stomach.

Hawke had been the first person he had called a friend. The first person he allowed himself to be vulnerable with. Sebastian had been such a source of comfort and forgiveness during these trying times, giving him hope for a better life when the darkest memories of his life hounded his dreams. And he was now renouncing what had been major pillars in his new life.

He definitely was the biggest fool.

"Fenris ?"

The Elf sighed. "Aren't you supposed to be in the garden, Mage ?"

"I recognised Hawke's voice and was worried he was still hunting for me... Are you alright ?"

Fenris pushed himself off the door to face Anders. The Mage was fiddling with the fancy tufts hanging from the belt of his borrowed robes, his brown eyes filled with anxious worry. The Mage had been an antagonistic force since they met but he had not treated Fenris any less upon discovering the truth.

No, despite the bad blood between them when Fenris was at his most of the vulnerable, Anders offered help.

"I wish I could tell you I was... Truth is, I don't really know anymore."

"Is there anything I can do ? Would you like me to fetch you a bottle of wine ?"

Fenris snorted. "You wouldn't be able to make the difference between wine and vinegar."

"Alright, it happened only once ! And it would be a lot less likely to happen if it wasn't so dark and dusty down there !" Anders jested with grand dramatic gestures mimicking his hurt feelings.

"Hmm, I suppose I will tell the basement to stop being so dark then... I must thank you, Mage. I... I know I did nothing to earn your compassion but I am grateful for it."

Anders waved his hand. "Bah, think nothing of it. I haven't exactly been the friendliest towards you either so let's just call it even and move on."

"You still owe me quite a few sovereigns from Wicked Grace, Mage." smirked the Elf.

"Hey ! I thought we were even ! Let's not ruin our budding friendship with matters of money !"

"Wouldn't your Spirit think it unjust of you not to pay me back ?"

"Wow ! Did you just call Justice a Spirit ?!" laughed the Mage, his honey locks falling down his shoulders as he threw his head back. "Who are you and what have you done to Fenris ?"

Fenris chuckled, patting the mage on the shoulder as he passed him by. "Come, Mage. We have gardening to do."

The visit from the Keeper ended up brief but courteous. Fenris explained he was in good hands, had a trusted person who could help him with any procedures. The Keeper hugged him and declared him a forever friend of Clan Tessem and of their plan to sail to Rivain where the Keeper originated from to reclaim her old territory.

Her final departure felt like closure to him. A final bow before the curtain fall.

This first week free of his guilt and the Chantry’s influence was a relief.

“Are we going to Wicked Grace tonight ?” asked Anders as they shared they lunch in the kitchen.

Fenris looked up to the Mage. Anders had dressed back in his ratty clothes, something Fenris had found Anders would do when he needed some form of comfort. The Mage was still paranoid about Templar assault, when left alone he would camp before a window, clenching an old crooked staff he had scavenged from the basement, barely even blinking to make sure he would not miss even the smallest shadow. Fenris had sprung awake several times from Anders whimpering in his sleep, though the Mage insisted they were ‘Grey Warden dreams’ Fenris highly doubted the darkspawn would threaten to ‘lock him in the dark’.

“We might, if you so desire. Varric has banned Hawke and Sebastian from the Hanged Man if their presence worries you.”

Anders nodded, tension escaping his body at the news. “Yeah… I don’t really want to see either of them. But I need to get out. Not that I don’t like it here but you know me. That place is a bit lacking in… toxic fumes and sick refugees."

The Elf acquiesced with a smile. It had been ages since he had had the occasion to relax with his friends, it would feel odd without Hawke present but he needed the distraction as well.

Through the day Anders made himself busier than a bee. As if the Mage was expecting their friends to show up here for Wicked Grace, deep cleaning everything save for the main hall-which they had both agreed to keep strategically dusty, weeding the already impeccable garden of minuscule parasites, reorganising the larder twice, and cleaning all the dirty clothes and sheets they had in the tub. Fenris' multiple attempts at offering his aid were rebuked and he resolved himself to simply hover and make sure the Mage would not overexert his energy.

Only when the sun tickled the horizon did Anders decided to freshen up and truly prepare for their weekly meet up.

Fenris decided to dress in the Dalish ensemble, he did not have the occasion to properly display it and he would not relent the chance to dazzle his friends with his reward.

Anders had been correct about Ethel's skill, Fenris could barely even see the seams made to fix up the sleeve nor did it bear any trace of the blood and mud from his fight. Braving his fears he tugged off the sheet hiding his mirror to take a look at himself. With Anders and the Keeper's treatment he had begun to look like his old self, his face had thinned out, some of his lost muscle had returned, and the breasts that had begun to form where expertly flattened by the tight ivory doublet. His chest swelled with pride and he indulged in some preening, adjusting the fabric here and there and exploring the embroidery to find where the dress' old patterns had been stitched in.

Varric would see that Fenris could make women swoon without even trying to brood.

Anders knocked on his door. "Fenris ? Is everything alright ?"

Fenris went to open the door and couldn't help but relish how Anders took a startled step back to give him a full once over before he let out a low appreciative whistle.

"Maker, you're stunning... Did you always have this hanging around ?"

Fenris rose an eyebrow as he leaned on the doorframe with a cocky smirk. "I've already worn this before you, Mage. Though you did get your head bashed a few times then."

"That's what you were wearing ?! Andraste's bouncy tits, it looks so much better when it's not soaked and I'm not wasted on magebane. I look like a dirty Darktowner next to you !"

"Which you are," pointed Fenris pinching the crooked feathers of Anders' pauldron. Maybe he should try to fix it up for the Mage next. "Why aren't you wearing the robes I gave you ?"

Anders scratched his cheek with a sheepish smile. "Well... They do look and feel fantastic but I'm afraid they might be too flashy for a wanted man. I don't want more Templars to... Well, not without buying me a drink first."

"Ah, of course. Forgive my question, then."

After spending a peaceful week with Anders by his side, Fenris had almost forgotten that Templars were still hunting for him on his supposed behalf. He hoped Varric would have a solution for them, and if it required taking out Hawke or Sebastian he would not hesitate.

How ironic.

Once again he was back at killing people for a Mage. But this time no one held his leash. If anything he suspected Anders would try to dissuade him.

"Fenris, are you alright ?"

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask ?"

"You seemed... Thoughtful."

The Elf nodded, shifting on his feet to chase away the antsy sensation creeping up them. "I was musing to myself that if it came to it I would not hesitate to protect you of my own free will. Let's go, Mage. I would prefer we get to the Hanged Man before sundown."

Chapter Text

Anders was oddly quiet through their trip to Lowtown, though Fenris assumed it had something to do with his Templar anxiety. Fenris made sure to stick close, bumping shoulders whenever he felt the Mage tensing or drifting into his own thoughts.

Soon the ominous bar sign swaying above the reinforced wooden doors came into view and both men pressed on to get to the relative safety of Varric's abode.

Anders only relaxed once Fenris slammed the door behind them, earning a few raised eyebrows from the few still sober patrons though none bothered to lift a finger. Still, Fenris could sense some lingering eyes following them as he took Anders up the stairs.

The Mage's hands had gone for his coat, clenching tighter around his body and the Elf could not help but reach for him, pressing his hand to his back as a gentle reminder of his presence.

Honey eyes blinked a few times before settling back on him and lighting up with a smile. "Thank you. I don't think I could have made it here if not for you."

"My pleasure." mumbled the Elf as he reached out to open the door for them.

As expected they found the rest of the crew, save for Hawke and Sebastian, having a heated discussion around mugs of ale.

Varric's eyes lit up upon noticing the two men and waved at them. "Oh ! Broody ! Blondie ! Looking great, I see ! Come have seats ! We were wondering if you would show up tonight."

Fenris shrugged, pulling a chair for Anders first before settling right next to him. "Why wouldn't we ? It is Thursday is it not ?"

Isabela let out an appreciative whistle. "Oh, my. You're dressed to impress tonight, sweet thing. Where have you been hiding this ?"

"I've been asking the same question." joked Anders, accepting the bowl of cider Varric pushed in his direction.

"It's a gift I acquired recently. I wanted to show it last week but the... events prevented me to do so."

"I can't believe none of you told me about this," groaned Aveline as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Last week I waited here for hours with no sign of any of you. I was about to call Donnic and ask for a search party. The Templars have been all over my office since then, I could have helped !"

"You haven't exactly shown a lot of sympathy to mages during your mandate." pointed Anders with a bitter sneer.

"Maybe not. But that's the law and I've been bending it quite a lot for you, Merrill, and Hawke."

"How would we know you weren't going to side with Garrett ?" spat the Mage slamming his fist onto the table. "You keep bringing up how he's the ideal apostate ! Mister devout, Templar allied, Chantry boy, for all I knew you would turn me in at the first occasion !"

Aveline pinched her lips. "Maybe you are right. I may have. If Carver had not shown up to tell me his brother had completely lost his mind."

"Junior did what ?"

"On the afternoon following the raid, he showed up into my office and told me Garrett and Sebastian had harassed him all day. They spent the entire day asking him weird questions in the Gallows courtyard about Templar business, carrying the Will of the Maker and, if I quote him correctly 'tits and cocks'. I would not have believed him if they didn't show up a few hours later looking completely frantic and asking me similar questions about Wesley and... Well, other nonsense."

"He asked you if you had a cock, didn't he ? Do you ?" jested Isabela with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"I fail to see how it is any of your business, Whore."

The Pirate shrugged. "It is not ! Though if you do mine is probably bigger than yours, Manhands."

Merrill and Varric snickered behind their mugs bumping each other's shoulders.

"Maker protect me, you've all gone insane."

"Anyways ! We all came here to play, didn't we ? Let me get my cards and-... Junior ?"

Fenris turned around to see Carver, still fully armoured shushing them loudly with a finger on his lips. "Quiet ! I'm trying to hide here ! If Garrett or Sebastian ask you you didn't see me here ! Is there a backdoor somewhere ?"

"I've banned Hawke and Choir Boy from the Hanged Man, Junior. What's this all about ?"

"Maker's breath !" The Templar slumped on a chair with a heavy sigh of relief. "I've been trying to escape them all week ! Do you mind if I sleep on the floor here ? They've been causing such a massive ruckus in the Gallows, asking all the Templars and Mages weird questions and as the Brother-in-chief I was the one who had to repeatedly kick them out. Yesterday they rowed up the harbour and started yelling in the middle of the night ! Even Meredith is starting to question if they have lost their marbles ! If I didn't know better I would think they were trying to start a rebellion !"

"Really ? Hawke ? A rebellion ? That doesn't sound like him ! He's way too Andrastian for that, isn't he ? I thought doing nothing and being mean to mages and elves was one of the tenets."

"It's not like that, Merrill." sighed Aveline.

"Really ? I suppose my clan should return to the Dales then."

The Guardswoman winced but dropped the topic.

"Well, Merrill is not so wrong," sighed Carver pouring himself a generous serving of Varric's liguor. "I've seen so much bad shit since I've joined. There's public whipping for minor infractions several times a week, the food the mages are given is not enough to sustain them through a whole day, their chambers are barely large enough even for a short elf to stretch laying down much less a regular human. They hang anyone they can't make tranquil or use in some way and leave the corpses hanging until they are fully rotten. Any mage who dies there is never given proper funeral blessings even less a pyre. I've stopped counting the number of people I had to cut down from the ropes they hanged themselves with. Last week, a seven years old girl managed to squeeze past the bars of the third floor window and jumped... At her age I didn't even know people could wish to end their own lives... Whenever I try to mention it to the Mothers or the Grand Cleric I'm told to 'put my faith in the Maker and believe all will go according to His Plan'. We have rules on paper ! And the Chantry is supposed to approve every single Rite of Tranquility or execution and step in to stop any abuses from happening but it's not being enforced ! Meredith just does whatever she pleases ! Only reason she hasn't already killed every mage of the Free Marches or gone with Alrik's plan is because the noble families have been giving massive sums of money to the Gallows and Chantry for their mage relatives which she pockets for Maker knows what ! I'm telling you, even if the sky opens and the Maker Himself told them to cut their crap they would rationalise it to justify more abuse... MAKER'S BALLS ! What's in that liquor, Varric ?!"

"Fine dwarven craft, direct from Orzhammar. That will put some hair on your chest, Junior."

Aveline shook her head, staring down at her empty mug. "Maker, I had no idea things were that dire out there. Wesley never told me such things."

Fenris' fingers wouldn't stop moving, turning his mug between his palms as he pondered Carver's words. In Tevinter, the Circle was more of a luxurious academia in which only Altus families could afford tuition. Each House had their private aisles in which they could house their carefully selected apprentices and researchers. The doors were always open, rooms were lavish, slaves in every corner attending to the mages' every needs. Its attendance was an obligation for anyone vying for a seat in the Magisterium, yes, but it could hardly be called a prison. Anders had so often declared the Circles to be torture rooms, mages to be slaves to the Chantry, and Fenris had always believed it to be an exaggeration from someone who couldn't realise the chance he had to have his every need attended while other starved and died outside but if what Carver said was true...

"Hey, Anders, are you okay, sweet thing ?"

Fenris jolted back to his senses, spinning around to see Isabela trying to reach for Anders, the Mage curled up on his stool, clenching the lapels of his coat as salty drops trailed down the line of his nose.

"Mage..." Fenris reached out to wrap an arm around the trembling feathers draped over his shoulders. "Mage, talk to me."

"I've been trying to tell you... I've been trying to tell you for years but you never listened... You said mages were dangerous, that I was dangerous, that the Circle wasn't that bad, that Meredith's actions were justified, that I too should be locked up, that I should submit to what the Templars wish to do to me. That I deserved it just for being born magic."

A heavy silence fell on the assembly save for Anders, stifled sniffles and sobs.

"I... I have been unfair. The Circle of Tevinter is nothing more than a luxurious school, I was foolish enough to believe it to be similar in the South. I know myself to be undeserving but I must apologise."

Anders clenched his jaw, shaking his head with a frustrated snarl. "That's it ?! 'I thought the Circle was just an expensive boarding school and called you names instead of listening, please forgive me' ?! We've known each other for how long ? Six ? Seven years ?! How many times did I tell you ?! How many more times did I needed to tell you for you to believe me ?! Should I have let the Templars do whatever they wanted to me for you to realise I was being serious ?! They had Karl made Tranquil even if he was Harrowed ! A good mage ! A good man ! A good Andrastian ! He begged me to kill him ! That boy, Alain, he cried in my arms because of what that shit-eating Karras has been doing to him since he got here ! How many tranquils have repeated over and over that they are punished for stolen stocks with lashings ?! You only care now because you feel guilty ! Because you can't ignore it anymore ! Fuck you, Fenris ! And you too, Aveline ! For all the apostates you've turned in even though they were doing nothing wrong 'because that's the law' ! You have their blood and pain on your hands as much as those filthy Templars ! Fuck you all for leaving me alone in this ! Only reason you even tolerate me is because I'm way less expensive than Lady Elegant ! You hypocrites !"

"Mage !"

Fenris scrambled to get up and recover his sword as the Mage bolted off, leaving even his staff behind. The rest of the crew left stunned and frozen on the spot.

His legs felt heavier than lead as Fenris stumbled after Anders, every choked sound reaching his ears cutting into his chest, twisting his guts with emotions he didn't dare to name. He wanted to reach, to hold the other man back but Anders was fast, very fast, but not as fast as Fenris.

His sharp claws finally dug into the Mage's back as they neared the edge of Darktown, ripping a hurt cry from the Healer before he managed to pin him to the wall.

A hard fist collided with the Elf's face and sent him reeling back from the surprising strength behind it. Anders was glaring daggers at him past the curtain of tears pouring from his eyes but he was no longer running.

"Fuck you, Fenris ! I You know what ?! You're right ! You don't deserve my forgiveness ! I'll find some other place for a clinic on my own ! It's not like you ever cared about anything I ever said ! You guys can just go fuck yourselves and find another healer!"

"Mage, please... I know nothing I do could possibly erase the pain you must have endured all these years. I am a fool to have allowed my pain and rage to blind me... You are a good man, a skilled healer, someone who has more than earned his freedom. There is no one to blame here but myself. I would lie if I said magic doesn't terrify me still, and yet I would slaughter every Templar in Thedas if they ever tried to take you away from me."

Anders' breath stuttered, forcing him to look down and away. "Maker's breath, if I didn't know better I would think you were declaring your flame to me."

"Would you stay if I was ?"

Startled amber eyes jumped back to him, looking at him in disbelief. The words had fallen off his mouth before he could even stop them and yet he knew them to be true.

Neither of them moved so Fenris reached for the Mage's hand, taking it in his, brushing his palm with his thumbs.

"When I first came to you... I was scared. I expected ridicule. Revenge. I expected my secret to be aired out, my disfigurement exposed. But you did none of that. You did not judge, you did not try to coerce me or changed the way you treat me, and I was hurting too much to see just how much it mattered... I have reacted like a child, no... Like an animal. And despite everything, all the damage I've caused, you kept your hand extended to me. All these years I spent fighting you... If I had come to you you would have helped me like you have. I have spent so long denying my own wants I did not realise until now what I need."

His eyes searched Anders' for any sign of rejection, any sign of disgust but found nothing but confusion and maybe... Hope ? His fingers brushed along the stubbled jaw, careful not to drag the claws over the pale skin, and his feet stepped closer to the worn leather boots, their chests almost touching.

"Mage, if I have misunderstood... Give me the order to leave, and I will."

Anders' breath caught in his throat but his gaze softened as he brought his hand to join the one resting on his cheek. "You're a free man, Fenris. No one shall ever give you orders again."

"Then forgive me. For I am about to take a very questionable decision."

Their lips met, fingers and claws grabbing and groping as Anders licked into the elf's mouth. Fenris felt like he was being devoured, possessed, and he welcomed the thought with open arms, surrendering himself to the Mage against him. A couple of girls giggled as they passed and Fenris reluctantly peeled himself off Anders' hungry lips.

"We should go back, Mage. Before our friends start a manhunt looking for you."

"Can't we just directly go home ?"

Home.

The word sent a delicious chill down the elf's spine and he couldn't resist to steal another chaste kiss from Anders.

"Let's at least tell them you are safe. Then we'll go Home."

No one commented on the protective way Fenris held Anders' arm when they excused themselves. Isabela hugged the Mage and Varric handed them one of his special bottles of dwarven ale but no one tried to hold them back.

Anders was quiet, sullen maybe, Fenris wondered if he was having second thoughts about their kiss. The clawed gauntlet clung to Anders' arm, holding him tight to stop him from bolting again. Fenris did not relinquish his hold when he searched for the key to his Mansion or turned it in the lock, only when Anders crossed the threshold did he finally let go of his sleeve.

Fenris watched the Mage holding his staff in a white-knuckles grip in front of him as he took a step inside the dusty main hall.

Where did the burst of passion they had felt just minutes before gone ? Taking a hesitant step, his fingers reached for the Mage's arm.

Words bubbled and popped inside his throat before crossing his tongue, leaving his mute and agape as he searched for his words. Did the Mage not want him ? Fenris had thought that Anders would not mind the state of his body but then maybe he preferred his males with the proper organs. Someone capable of penetrating him and give him pleasure.

"Mage ?"

Anders' staff fell with a loud clank as a flurry of hands and feathers swooped Fenris off his feet, stealing his lips in another ravenous embrace. Fenris' claws scratched the padded leather of the Apostate's coat before they found purchase and clung to the fabric. His breathless moans swallowed by the other mouth.

"Maker, Fenris. It's taking all my resolve not to take you right here in front of your scarecrows." breathed out Anders when their faces finally broke apart.

The Elf swallowed his heavy tongue, taking a brief second to regain his composure. His mind was racing, he craved to fulfill the Healer's promises but he still had no clue of the logistics of such things. "I've seen you naked, Mage. I fail to see how you could ravish me."

Anders let out a loud guffaw before stealing another kiss from his lips. "There are many things two men like us can do. I won't even need magic to make you howl, though it might be a little funnier if I'm allowed."

Two men like us.

The simple statement was enough to make Fenris' chest swell with pride and anticipation. "A tall tale. I believe a demonstration is in order."

"Then I believe a bed is in order."

A low rumble escaped the Elf's throat as he snatched the Mage's wrist and tugged him upstairs, the Healer laughing and cheering as he tugged at the straps of his coat.

The feathered horror fell on the doorstep of Fenris' room and he almost threw the giggling Mage onto his bed.

Anders never stopped looking at him as he kicked off his boots and socks, licking his lips like Fenris was candy. Maybe he should be appalled, mortified to see yet another mage lusting after him this way, but when Anders tugged off his ratty tunic and beckoned him over all he wanted to do was to throw himself on top of the other man's body and maul him like a rabid hound.

His hands found the ties of his doublet and hesitated. Once those were loosened his shape would be revealed. Anders' chest, by all accounts, looked exactly like a man's, a dusting of marigold hair covered his chest and trickled down his stomach all the way to his waistband, thick enough to make any dwarf jealous with envy. Fenris' breasts were no longer flat planes of pure muscle but then again...

Anders had never cared.

With renewed determination his fingers swiped open the doublet and let it fall onto the rug before shrugging off his loose shirt and pants, leaving him bare and vulnerable before the Mage's eyes.

He did not give himself more time to hesitate and climbed on the bed, accepting Anders' lead and straddling the thin body as the Mage's palms trailed along his body.

"Andraste's bouncy tits, Fenris. Do you have any idea just how stunning you are ?"

"No," answered the Elf truthfully, suppressing a nervous whine when Anders trailed his lips along the lines of his neck. "No one has ever said so. Even less with genuine intention."

Anders hummed against his skin, massaging the flesh of the Warrior's back and waist with his skilled fingers. His breath burning the skin it caressed with every kiss. "Then let me describe what I'm seeing. I'm seeing power. Everywhere I touch I can feel the strength laying beneath and I'm awed that you're allowing me close enough to touch, trust me enough to shed your armour for me even for a second," the words sent trickles of fuzzy pleasure down the Elf's spine, Fenris panting and arching his back to press himself closer to the other body. "I see intelligence, every time those eyes look at me I feel pierced by their intensity, how they perceive all my ticks, memorise every little detail in an instant. I see resilience, in every line of your body, every swing of your sword, every duel you win, every smile that finds your lips despite all the hurt you've been through. I see survival and the fortitude of your soul. You amaze us, you infuriate us, you intrigue us, you mesmerise us..."

"Us ?"

The Mage flinched and let out an awkward cough. "Sorry. I guess the lyrium is bringing Justice closer to the surface."

Fenris caught Anders' chin between his fingers and guided the other man to look up at him in the eyes. "Is he going to show up if we keep going ?"

"No. He's curious but he does not wish to interfere. He knows his presence is not welcome."

Fenris hummed, it's not like he wasn't aware of Anders' possession, the Mage was awfully bad at keeping it a secret. He had no intention of sharing this private moment with the Spirit but after a moment of deliberation he finally nodded. "Very well. I am not comfortable with the presence of your... Spirit but I am willing to trust you. Show me the things you've promised, Mage. But let me warn you, I have high expectations for tonight."

The smile on Anders' lips warm and sharp, a cat given a bowl of cream.

"Then let’s hope I exceed them, hmm ?"

Tension creeped up the elf's body as Anders guided him down to lay on the mattress and gently guided his thighs open to expose his crux. Fenris swallowed hard, it was nothing Anders had not seen before and yet he felt more exposed than ever.

Then the Mage bowed above him and pressed a reverent kiss between the swell of his small breasts, then lower down the softer flesh of his stomach, dipped his tongue into his navel, and crept lower and lower...

A soft gasp escaped his lips as his body arched against the Healer's face. His lips had trapped the little nub of flesh Danarius led him to believe was his cock and Anders now mouthed and toyed with it as Fenris struggled to keep himself from grabbing his face and shoving him closer.

He could feel the Mage's smile widen between his legs as he rolled his tongue in little circles, sending little jolts of pleasure across his spine and legs.

No one had ever done this for him, Danarius would have never gotten his face anywhere near his crotch, even less ran his tongue over his genitals, and yet Anders was suckling and licking him like nothing else existed.

New sounds came out of his throat, deep moans and shivering whines, and Anders dared to chuckle.

"Mage." rumbled the Elf when the Healer had to pause his ministrations to giggle.

"Sorry, sorry," apologised Anders moving his face away from his cunt. "I just didn't expect such an intense reaction. I figured you more as the quiet and stoic type."

Fenris grunted, finally resolving himself to grab the Mage's blond locks and pressing him back where he wanted him. "I was caught by surprise. And you have yet to bring me to the edge, Mage. Get to work."

"Yessir." purred Anders dragging the flat of his tongue along the elf's thigh before plunging back down.

Fenris allowed himself to relax, let Anders do as he pleased, trying to control his squirms and moans despite the Mage's clear intention to make him lose all control. His thighs trembled and his back tensed as sparkling heat gathered inside his loins, his teeth gritting under the pressure of his contracting jaw until the pesky Healer between his legs sucked his dick with a sloppy slurping sound.

All the tension snapped as he let out a startled shout of pleasure and grounded his core against that clever mouth.

Before his eyes flashed a thousand paintings of a life he did not remember living, of faces he did not remember smiling, smells he did not remember tasting, and yet were his. He reached for the fleeting memories only managing to crush them like butterfly wings between his fingers before slamming back into his own body, still being served by the Mage's eager tongue.

Anders indulged him with a few more tickles of his tongue before pushing himself away and crawling over the Elf's body with his face covered in drool and juice. An annoyed growl answered the cocky smirk before their lips met in a lazy kiss.

The salty taste of his own body flooded his mouth and yet Fenris could not care less. His body was relaxed, content, warm, and if not for the persistent body above his kissing him he might fall asleep right there.

"So ? What did you think ?"

Fenris cracked open an eye to glare at the Mage hovering just a few inches from his face. "What do I think about what ?"

"What do you think about my blowing skills ? Grumpy." teased Anders peppering a trail of kisses along the lines of his neck.

Fenris scoffed, generously rolling his head to the side to give the Mage better access. "It was... Satisfactory."

"Oh ? Just 'satisfactory' ?"

"... No. That is insufficient," admitted the elf, bringing his hand to brush the Mage's stubbly cheek. "You've given me something more precious than I can fathom. Thank you."

A veil of nameless emotion washed over Anders' features, something soft and fragile, before the Mage badly schooled himself with a shrug and nervous chuckle. "Well, that was just an orgasm. There's no need to get all mushy on me, you know ?"

"Shouldn't I ? You've given me more than simple carnal pleasure. Every second of the life I remember I believed myself to be a mutilated monster, incapable of experiencing any form of physical gratification. But you've shown me a whole different way of perceiving my body, you didn't mock me when you had the occasion, you offered aid when I deserved none, and despite all my hostility you have been nothing but kind. I am grateful beyond words, Mage."

"I... Fenris, I don't know what to say," Anders confessed with a sheepish look. "I'm not going to pretend we always went along swimmingly but I'm glad we see eye to eye now. It doesn't matter if Danarius shows up with an entire Imperial flotilla, I'll turn the entire seas red to make sure you're safe."

Fenris chuckled before pulling the Mage down to rest on his chest, wrapping his arms around him. "These are tall words coming from a man who cannot even defend himself from Templars. But I appreciate them. I still hope it doesn't come to that."

"So do I, Fenris. Still, I will kill Danarius if he dares show up." purred the Mage, nuzzling the lyrium lines of the elf's neck.

"You've proved yourself capable. I'm certain you still have many tricks to show me."

Anders grinned. "Well, when will you be ready to go again ?"

Fenris chuckled. "Give me another minute, Mage. And maybe I'll be agreeable to test that famed 'Electricity Trick' Isabela told me about."

Chapter Text

The next few days passed in a blissful haze. Fenris kept the Mage safe and fed, and in exchange Anders had him gripping the bed sheets, moaning like a whore and begging for more.

Never under Danarius' hands had he felt such intense pleasure, or any pleasure at all if Fenris was being honest. He still feared penetration but Anders was more than happy demonstrating anything of the sort on himself and Fenris marvelled at his reactions he pulled when he crooked his fingers just right or watching the slick of his cunt drool down his taint. Every night Anders made the memories of Fenris' old Master's cruel hands feel more and more distant but the elusive flashes he had experienced the first time were yet to catch up to him.

Maybe it had just been an hallucination.

A one time thing.

In the meantime, life in Kirkwall continued. Carver sought refuge from Hawke and Sebastian at the Hanged Man. Templars kept searching for Anders but Fenris' constant vigil kept him safe from any other attempt on his life. Varric narrated rumours of Elthina herself growing agitated, of warnings regarding her political meddling and poor management of the Mage situation finally reaching the Divine's ears. Anders wanted to return to his fight in the Mage Underground but Merrill dissuaded him. The surviving members had fled and Meredith had grown even more paranoid and violent. Regular Kirkwall citizens started to fight back against the Templars power-hungry manœuvres but often found themselves hanging by the neck in the Gallows’ harbour. Carver's desolate retellings of his peers mad ravings and the horrors always increasing in the Circle made every second feel more final.

Fenris didn't know how to feel about it all but even he could see that the Order was utterly lost to their dreams of domination.

Maybe Anders was correct. It doesn't matter if one was a mage or not. Power would corrupt regardless of one's lineage.

Then Fenris received a letter.

Amongst all the latest events and the warmth of Anders' body he had almost forgotten his own blood.

Varania had finally agreed to come to Kirkwall. Anders cheered for him as the elf wrote his last letter and sent it along with enough money to make the trip from Tevinter in a decent cabin and enough for room and board when she arrived, shall she refuse to stay in the Mansion.

"There's a high chance Danarius will come. Will you be here with me if he does ?"

"And let you pass an opportunity to tell that prick that you've been bending a mage over the desk every night ? Never."

Fenris snorted and slapped Anders' thigh playfully. There was still a layer of dread rolling within his stomach. It had taken a while to convince Varania he truly was the one he claimed to be and Fenris couldn't help but wonder if it he was no longer the same person she had known. Did she remember him wearing dresses ? Did she remember him with longer hair ? Would she refuse to accept him as the man he had become ?

A thumb pressed itself between his frowning eyebrows. "You're thinking too hard, Love. You'll give yourself a headache."

Fenris sighed, rolling to the side to curl against the Mage's flank. "I just fear she might not recognise me. I don't even remember the person she knew."

"People change. She's probably a different person from the one you knew back then. It's been what ? At least ten years ? Twenty ? Maker, twenty years ago I was not even a mage... That sounds so long ago and you look so young ! How old are you exactly ?"

"I don't remember," huffed the elf. It's not like he counted the days since he had lost his memories. He vaguely knew it had been almost a decade since he escaped Danarius' clutches but how long he spent squished under his thumb remained blurry. "I suppose you're correct though. She's probably not the same person she was then."

"Then it's settled ! What are you going to wear for the meeting ?"

"My armour. If Danarius is here I cannot afford to be vulnerable."

"Such a shame. You look quite good in your Dalish suit !" protested the Mage with a childish pout.

The Elf chuckled, busying his fingers by drawing patterns in Anders' chest hair. "There will be many more occasions to wear it but if Danarius shows up I doubt even Ethel will get the stains out."

"Touché. Maybe once the sister situation has settled I could take you go shopping. I'm sure we could find even more ways to make you look dazzling."

"With what money would you buy me clothes, Mage ? You didn't buy new clothes for yourself in almost seven years." pointed Fenris drawing a swirl in the middle of the Mage's chest.

"I..." the Healer's voice croaked, an invisible hand was constricting his air pipes, a somber presence looming over his head. "I had money put aside to buy myself a new coat. But I think I prefer to spend it with you."

Fenris lifted himself from his warm cushion to search the Healer's face. The amber gaze avoided his, a deep shadow covering his features, something cold and unpleasant.

"Why do I have the feeling this purchase had some sinister reason attached to it ?"

Anders sighed, sitting up on the bed but still avoiding the Elf's gaze. "I know you've been more or less out of the loop but... Things aren't going so well for us -... For mages, I mean. The Mage Underground... Most have been slaughtered in Meredith's last sweep, I’m told the rest have fled, every day there's a new tranquil in the Gallows, people I know have done nothing wrong... For every mage I save ten more are slaughtered or maimed. There's no justice for us. They won't stop until we're all dead or worse... The one thing I could hope for was a last ditch effort to open everyone's eyes to the horrors we've been going through... Something no one would be able to ignore..."

"... You did not not intend to survive such an event, did you ?"

The Mage shook his head, eyes lost in a sea of misery. "I do not. I still have to go through this. This is the only way we'll ever be free."

"Mage, There has to be another way."

"Which one ?!" snapped Anders. "I've tried every peaceful solution I knew. Sent letters, manifestos, tried to make Hawke and Aveline understand how dire things were ! I had some hopes when Carver came around but his brother is polluted with Chantry ideology ... Varric is just fine with letting things stay as they are even if the way they are is straight out of a darkspawn's arse ! I've tried breaking out mages, I've tried getting problematic Templars exposed and kicked out, I've tried smuggling letters to families, I've sent messages to every Grand Cleric of Thedas, I've even sent letters to the Divine, Fenris ! Hundreds of them ! I've spent my nights awake writing letters and received no answers ! No one cares... They are fine with people like me dying. Even Loghain's plot to sell elves from the Denerim Alienage into slavery got some uproar back then. Here, the Templars can drag anyone out of their home and hang them on the public square without a trial on mere suspicions of aiding a mage, even if the aid in question was just pointing out the nearest inn to a stranger. How long until the Templars raze this city altogether and declare themselves Kings ? At this point even the Qun seems favorable. At least they don't pretend to be saving our souls..."

Fenris had stopped drawing on Anders' skin. He knew this dread. The feeling of inevitability, that drowning sensation. He had felt the same, still felt its clutches whenever Danarius' memory grazed his mind.

He snaked his arm around Anders' chest and held him tight, his ear pressed over his heartbeat. It was steady, slow, calm, resigned, and Fenris didn't want it to stop.

"Will you at least consider trying to live on ? Freedom for all mages seems pointless if you do not partake in."

Anders' somber gaze turned to meet his eyes, they already seemed cold and lifeless and yet... There was this faint glimmer of amber hope shining deep within that Fenris wanted to reach for and pull forward. This beautiful shine he spied sometimes when Anders smiled at him, when Fenris correctly identified a plant burgeoning in the garden, when the Healer’s lame jokes earned a chuckle from the Elf, when they shared food in front of the fireplace and Anders though Fenris wasn't aware of him looking.

Fenris brushed the stubbled jaw and traced the line of his lips.

"If I do... Will you accept me by your side ? Tell the world you are willing to share your love with an apostate ?" Anders asked, his voice fragile and raw.

Fenris smiled, rolling to straddle his lover and look down upon him. "I believe I already am."

Long arms swooped him into a bone crushing embrace, wrapping him into a mess of marigold hair and tears as Anders covered him in reverent kisses and loving prayers. Fenris laughed and returned the affection.

He wanted this man.

He wanted this infuriating, bullheaded, reckless man.

And he wanted all of Thedas to know.

"Relax, Love. You're going to light up the whole of Lowtown if you keep this up."

Fenris forced a strained hiss out of his teeth and went to find his lover's hand. Anders' thumb brushed against his gauntlet and squeezed back. For once Anders had agreed to wear Tevinter robes, a lovely teal and gold ensemble with a velvet hood. The Mage did 'personalise' the cloth, removed a lot of the golden trinkets hanging from the shoulders and hips, which he deemed 'too noisy', and changed the tufted belt for a darker cobalt blue one Fenris insisted did not match but Anders assured would be 'less flashy'.

"Are you certain you wish to be here ? It may be dangerous."

He did want Anders with him to meet Varania, whether Danarius showed up or not. To support him if Varania did not recognise him.

Did not understand him.

There was a time he had hoped he would face this moment with Hawke by his side. Maybe Sebastian as well.

Now he didn't want them anywhere near for this special moment.

A thumb pressed between his eyebrows. "Of course I want to be there, Love. The danger just makes me want to be here even more. I want to protect you."

"Start protecting yourself first, Mage. I won't survive if you came to harm." retorted the Elf.

"It's alright, Love. Varric and Isabela will be here as well. Well be fine."

Fenris sighed. "I suppose you are right. No point stalling."

The two men stepped in together. Back into the familiar rumble of the tavern, looking for a lonely red haired Tevinter elf. Varric and Isabela had agreed to stay in the Dwarf's suite unless Anders fetched for them or they heard the sound of fighting. Fenris turned his head around but his heart beat so loud in his ears he felt like he was going blind. Every face around him undistinguishable from one another, every hair taking a reddish hue under the candle light. Anders tugged at his gauntlet and pointed at a thin silhouette in the corner of the room.

"Look ! Do you think that's her ?"

In an instant, Anders, the greasy room filled with loud and raucous laughter were completely erased and Fenris, the escaped slave, the angry warrior, vanished as well. He was in Tevinter, in a garden, under the bright sun of Seheron, running after a younger girl with red braids, laughing as they fell together in the dust. On their necks, collars they had yet to understand the weight of. Young, unfamiliar with pain. She smiled at him and called his name.

"Varania ?"

The tavern was back around him, along with the elven woman... His sister. Varania looked up to him, verdant eyes mirroring his. Their emerald hue clouded by unnamed darkness but still the same as all those years ago.

A flash of recognition lit her features only to be immediately smothered as her face dropped to stare at her half empty mug.

"It really is you..."

"I remember you... We played in our Master's courtyard while mother worked. You called me -..."

"Leto. That's your name."

A trickle of dread dripped down his spine. His stomach was tied into tight knots and yet he could not stop looking at his sister. "What's wrong ? Why are you so -..."

"Fenris ! He's here !"

He recognised his footsteps before he even heard his voice. It was all he could hear.

"Ah, my little Fenris," he purred with his disgusting syrupy tone. "Predictable as always."

The air stilled, growing dead in his lungs like the blood freezing in his veins. He was here. After almost ten years of make-believe freedom, pretending to be a free man while his shadow loomed over his every move.

Danarius stood over him.

A cohort of heavily armed mercs at his heels.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto." breathed out Varania.

Varania. His own sister. His own blood.

"You led him here ?!"

"Now, now, Fenris," chuckled the Magister. "She did what every good Imperial citizen should do."

Fenris snarled, foaming at the mouth as he puffed up to face his old Master. "I never wanted those filthy markings ! I was not made for you ! I know you lied !"

Danarius' laugh rolled onto him like thick drool as Varania came to stand by his side, eyes cast down, staring at the floor like a submissive dog.

"How little do you know, my pet. And this is your new Master then ?" asked the Magister turning to Anders with disgusting glee. "I had heard you were bound to the Champion of Kirkwall but it seems I was mistaken. How low must you have fallen to grovel to such a pitiful man ?"

"Anders is worth a thousand times the man you pretend to be Danarius ! Don't you dare speak ill of him !" Fenris hissed, clenching his fingers into tight fists.

"Such devotion ! Looks like those barbarian's wicked customs have won you over, my little wolf," Danarius mocked with a dirty grin. "I see you've taken good care of my pet. Surely we can come to an arrangement ?"

Fenris' entire soul dropped and shattered like crystal glass. Of course it would come to this. There was nothing Anders could want that Danarius couldn't offer. Nothing that could possibly be worth more than Fenris he wouldn't obtain. It was over. It has always been futile. Like it was always meant to be.

"An arrangement ?"

The Fade cracked and sundered, beyond Anders' eyes, beyond his body, encasing the entire tavern with the power of the Fade. The resounding roar of Justice pouring out of Anders' throat like raw magic, shaking the bottles of diluted alcohol off the shelves.

"Fiend ! There is nothing your corrupted soul could offer that is worth a man's freedom ! You shall never claim dominion over another man's soul and body ever again ! Today is the day Fenris will be free of your influence ! Justice shall be served !"

The smug confidence drained from Danarius' eyes as he snatched his decorative staff off his back. "Kaffas ! It's an Abomination ! Men ! Protect me !"

His men did not have the time to throw themselves in front of the Magister that two had already fallen to Isabela and Bianca.

Danarius swore, casting a barrier around himself, blasting Varania away.

The girl screamed and scrambled under a table in fright. Drunken patrons grabbed their weapons, furious to have their revelery disturbed, throwing mugs and chairs at the disruptor when they didn't have any. Maraas, the Qunari bouncer stood with brutal grace and unsheathed his double axe, ready to cut some Tevinter heads. Some patrons made for the doors only to find they were sealed with unfathomable magical forces before diving behind Corff's bar as shades and demons were summoned to the mortal plane.

"Fenris ! Move !" barked Varric from his stand point as he loaded another shot amidst the chaos of magic, swords, beer, and blood.

Obedient, Fenris reached for his sword.

Blade of Mercy. Tevinter trophy. Gift from Hawke.

His palms were sweaty, his grip limp, everything happening in slow motion. But he would fight. It was the only thing he knew.

His markings burned as he lit them, his feet moved of their own accord, dodging arrows and lost furniture, swinging for anything wearing Tevinter colours, anything that bore the crest of his Master.

By his side, Anders... Or more likely, Justice, was entirely focused on Danarius, relentlessly harping on his barrier, stomping out any attempt to cast any offensive spell, protecting Fenris from any attempt to control him.

Warm blood splattered across his face, filling his mouth with salty iron as Justice shattered his staff over the barrier. The Spirit roared, plunging his bare hands into the magical wall, overloading the spell with raw power from the Fade.

Danarius struggled to push back, close the breach, unable to free a hand to cut himself and retaliate with Blood Magic. The two mages screamed, spit flying in each other's face. Then Fenris spotted Danarius getting his hand closer to the sharp thorn protruding from his staff.

"Mage !"

"MAGES LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON WE CAN'T BE FREE !" shouted the Spirit, deafened by the buzz of explosive magic.

"Justice !"

Anders teeth grew longer as thick drool dribbled, ready to tear and rend flesh like any abomination about to be put down.

"Anders !"

Fenris slashed his way past another merc, jumping over a shattered table to reach his lover as Danarius' hand squeezed a drop of blood from the thorn.

"AMATUS !"

Both mages startled out of their focus. Justice slapped back inside the Healer's body, pulling back all the cracks surrounding them, and sending him reeling backwards. Losing his balance, Danarius' shield flickered just enough for Fenris to phase through and slash both his hands clean off.

The Magister fell with a broken wail, rolling and sobbing as blood poured from his severed limbs. A most pathetic sight that Fenris felt no pity for as he stepped in the growing pool of blood, his hand still clenching the hilt of his sword.

"No ! Stay away !" Danarius begged, holding out a missing hand to protect himself from his enraged pet. "Don't kill me ! Please ! I'll be leave you be ! I swear ! I'll give you everything you want !"

A sick sensation of rage, acid and bitter, filled him as he watched the Magister grovel, his expensive robes covered in crimson and greasy dust, his finely trimmed beard in tears and snot.

"After all those years of torment. Hounding me. Humiliating me. The only thing I want from you, Magister, is your heart on a plate."

One flash of his brands, and his hand easily tore the wretched organ from the Magister’s ribcage. Danarius’ mouth filled with bloody foam before his body slumped on the greasy planks of the Hanged Man's floor. And Fenris watched. As his last cursed breath bubbled out of his throat and the final twitches agitated the dead body.

He couldn't hear or see anything but his own breathing and the disgusting corpse of an old man. His hands would never touch him again. His voice would never reach his ears again. His body would never possess his again.

His sword clattered onto the ground. His legs stumbled backward, away from this dead monster, this demon, this cruel God, this pile of bones and flesh which had once formed a man.

It was over.

This part of his life was over.

He no longer had a Master.

He was free.

So why did this not feel like victory ?

"Fenris ?"

Fenris looked up to his friends' worried faces. Their hairs were messed up but any bruises or injuries had already been healed.

"Are you alright, Love ?"

"I... Am unsure." he replied in a soft voice.

Anders acquiesced and stepped closer, the Mage seemed unsure what to do with his hands without a staff to hold onto. He offered his hand to the elf and Fenris pulled him closer into a tight embrace. Varric patted Isabela's back and the two left to help Corff put some order in the tavern.

His lover's arms wrapped around him and came to brush his locks. Danarius had often pet him like a dog as he knelt at his feet, but Anders' hand never made him feel lesser.

A memory of his mother petting him just like this as he rested his head on her knees and Fenris remembered what he came here for.

"Varania ! Where ?"

His sister stood still and straight, clenching her messed up jupon, but unharmed. The same air of resignation on her features, she looked much older than Fenris, worn out, tired.

"I had no other choice, Leto."

Her words sparked a rageful flame inside his gut and he tore himself from Anders' arms. "Don't call me that ! You sold your own brother to a Magister !"

"You don't what it's been like... What we've been through. What I had to do since mother died. This was my only chance !" She still wouldn't meet his eyes. Still talking to the floor with tears welling in her eyes yet never falling. What could she have needed ?! What did he offer that was worth all the torment he'd been put through ?!

"Your only chance to what ?! What did he give you ?! Money ? A house ?! All these things I could have provided for !"

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I could have been a Magister..."

"A Magister ?! You would have sold your brother to become a Magister ?!"

"I had nothing else ! All the work is taken by slaves ! People in the Alienage are stacked upon each other, dying of disease in absolute squalor ! When mother died she was so thin even a child could carry her ! I tried everything ! Being apprenticed to a Magister is the only way I could leave this place..."

Fenris reeled back, imagining the tender smile of his mother now gaunt and infected. What had happened ?! What had been so bad she and his sister had fallen so low ?

"But why ? Why not give me a chance ? Why go to him ?"

"You said you never wanted this markings. But that's not true... You competed for them. When you won you were granted a boon, you used it to buy freedom for mother and me. When I received your letter he contacted me himself, if I did not go along with him he could have simply forced me to... There was nothing I could have done..."

Fenris stumbled until he found an unbroken stool to slump on and held his face between his hands. "Get out... Get out ! Before I change my mind !"

Varania pinched her lips and turned her back on him. "Two years after we'd been freed we saw you all clad in gold while we were begging for scraps to eat. You did not even recognise us... Mother was heartbroken, she died soon after."

"Why are you telling me this ?!"

"Because freedom was no boon... Looking at you now, I think you got the better end of the bargain."

She wrung her skirt one last time before storming out, leaving Fenris behind to mourn.

He curled upon himself, clenching his sides strong enough to crush his own ribcage. He was free... But at a final price... His last remaining root to his forgotten past severed.

He felt Anders' presence before even opening his eyes but his Mage was as much at a loss for words as he.

"Fenris..."

He sighed. He has hoped this evening would go differently. He had hoped for a quiet, if strained and awkward, evening outside where he would learn to know his estranged sister and introduce her to someone who mattered to him. Instead here he was. Free. Empty. And hurting even more than every before.

"Listen, if you think that will help you take it all out on me."

He looked up to see his lover twisting his own hands viciously, his guilty eyes trained to the floor.

"Why would I do that, Mage ?"

"I don't know... Danarius was a Mage, your sister is one as well, she was offered a magical apprenticeship... I guess magic is the root of all evils again." Anders mumbled, the sound of defeat weighting his voice.

The elf shook his head as he stood to his feet. "I hardly see magic as the cause of this. People having power over others is what caused this..."

"Fenris..."

"Danarius thought he could own me. All the Magisters of Tevinter believe it is their birthright to own slaves. To control the lives of those below them ! Had my sister been of the Soporati he would have offered her money, or an estate. Magic has spoiled many things but it was not involved in this."

"Love... I'm sorry. I wish tonight had gone differently."

"So did I... " he breathed out. Around them most patrons had up and left the bar, the most persistent had dusted a corner and drank sitting on the floor. The place was almost empty but there was still too many eyes.

"Amatus. Take me home ?"

Anders wrapped his arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Of course, Love. I think we both deserve a good bath and a rest."

The elf hummed, allowing his head to rest on his Mage's shoulder. He left his bloody sword on the floor, to rest with Anders' shattered staff.

He had a new life to start.

Chapter Text

The smell of cooking food greeted him as he opened the door upon returning from his daily errands. The old hallway, brightly lit by the setting sun coming through the renovated windows, had been refurbished into a cozy living space for him and Anders.

So much had changed in the past few days, the estate had been the first step in moving on from his life of slavery. In the week following the death of Danarius, Fenris had put a claim for the estate of his old master. In normal times, he would not have stood a chance having his appeal approved but with the political turmoil and a bit of administrative trickery he now officially owned the Hightown mansion and began renovating.

Varric found him a crew of dwarven artisans to completely change the aspect of the halls into a less 'Imperial' style. Now the mansion looked warmer, maybe more like Anders than himself but it made his Amatus happy and that was enough for him. He had plenty of time to figure out what he liked now.

Half the rooms had yet to be repurposed but Fenris intended to change that, especially since Merrill had unearthed an Dalish ancient ritual (which she assured was not blood magic) which would allow him to fully transform his physical form into one that suited him better. It might allow him to plants roots of his own, shall Anders agree.

His Amatus had mentioned he was fine with his organs as they were. Fenris didn't understand but he would respect it. He had grown fond of his Mage's parts and all the ways he could make him shiver. He couldn't wait to do it in a whole other way.

"Love ? Is that you ?" called the Mage from the kitchen as if he hadn't sensed Fenris' lyrium the second he had crossed the threshold.

Templars still kept his lover confined to their home with their incessant patrols but Anders had found a way to send potions to those who needed them through a discreet network of couriers, and occasionally sneaked into people’s home for private healing in cases of emergencies.

If so maybe Fenris could be inclined to talk to them again.

Maybe.

He did not know he would talk to them again that very evening.

The evening the Champion of Kirkwall, along with Sebastian of Starkhaven, blew up the Chantry upon discovering the extend of Most Holy Grand Cleric Elthina's willful implication in Meredith's genocidal madness.

A night the whole of Thedas would remember.