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“A deserter ?”
Hawke took the file from Fenris and closed it with a grim set to his jaw. He didn’t seem unprepared for the argument Fenris and that only irritated Fenris further. If Hawke knew Fenris would see the danger in bringing this mage to the base then why could he not understand the severity of that danger himself? “This mage was involved in developing the magic that enables the jaegers to work, Fenris.”
“That magic is not failing us. He defied and fled his Circle, abandoned the Grey Warden Shatterdome in Amaranthine, and he is an abomination! What use could you have for him?”
Hawke gave no answer save for a dismissal and Fenris seethed as he stalked away. Hawke himself was a mage and while Fenris could understand a certain amount of camaraderie, the mage in that file was nothing like Hawke. This ‘Anders’ would only endanger them all.
---
Fenris first saw Anders when the mage was being escorted onto the base by Hawke- unguarded. He grit his teeth at the lack of precaution for the rest of the base as Hawke showed the mage around. As disarmingly skinny and nondescript as the mage appeared, with his shaggy hair pulled from his face and the bristly shadow of many days unshaven, Fenris refused to fall for it.
He grimaced when Hawke pointed to him, gesturing to come over. Turning on his heel, he left. Hawke was welcome to play host but Fenris had no interest in the mage beyond his ability to control his magic.
---
As uncomfortable as mages made Fenris, visiting the healers for pre-tryout evaluations was a close second. However, Fenris hadn’t been aware that his discomfort of mages and healers could be combined as he entered the infirmary and Anders turned to greet him.
“You are a healer,” Fenris surmised.
“Yes, a spirit healer, actually.” The silence stretched for a beat, making Anders uncomfortable enough to continue, “And you’re here for your evaluation. By me. The healer. Can you just… just come inside? If you want to be signed off for tryouts, that is.” Fenris very much wanted to be signed off but the prospect of being poked and prodded by this mage made him debate it a moment.
The physical portion came first and Fenris knew this part well enough that he immediately went towards the training dummy. He took up the training sword and swung it a few times, limbering up a little, before Anders beckoned Fenris to strike the dummy. Silence reigned for a while until Anders felt the need to break it. “So... how come you hate me?”
Given the mage’s skittishness when he’d first arrived Fenris had been under the impression that, while Anders was not stupid enough to have missed Fenris’ dislike of him, it was unlikely the mage would confront it. That had been fine with Fenris. Distance between himself and the mage was preferable. The blow he struck to the dummy shook Fenris’ arms, an overexertion of strength thanks to the mage’s needling. “That is not the question you want to ask.”
“You’ve gone through compatibility tryouts seven times with no strong matches. Hawke brought me here to find one.”
“You?” Fenris dropped his stance and turned to the mage.
“I was one of the Ferelden Circle’s finest, and I suppose the Warden’s. I am very good at matching pilots. Anyone can be compatible, but the strongest bonds are rare. The stronger the bond; the stronger the jaeger. Every single tryout you’ve done, you’ve insisted no mages. Why?”
“I do not want to drift with a mage,” Fenris answered immediately.
The mage’s nostrils flared in a way that Fenris was starting to recognise as Anders’ taking offence. “Why? I know what compliments in the drift and-”
Fenris crossed his arms, “And you think what I need is a mage.”
“Admit it, you’ve thought you might be compatible with Hawke. He’d be top of the list if I didn’t know he had no intention of drifting again.”
Anders was right, Fenris had thought about drifting with Hawke. Hawke challenged him in the way Anders said was ideal for strong compatibility but Hawke had never fully recovered from losing his previous co-pilot; his brother. “You do not think there is anyone I am drift compatible with.”
“No one you would consider.” It shouldn’t have stung, Fenris had been coming to that conclusion himself. Without another word Fenris turned for the door, uncaring of the aborted inhales Anders made to say something. There was nothing else to say.
---
Fenris studied the lyrium scored into his palm, tracing the slightly raised marks with the fingertips of his other hand. Danarius had done his work remarkably even if his grand plan had never come to fruition, thanks to Fenris.
He’d finally thought himself free of mages. Mages had their uses, certainly. He even called a few friends and no longer considered that strange, but to share his mind with one? It brought back memories of clawing fingers, of touches he could not refuse, of magic creeping it’s way through his body with no way to fight back.
He’d been compatible with people before and he’d considered the reality of drifting with another person- but not a mage. The drift worked on an equal level, as much as he shared would be shared in return, but Fenris had so few things left unsullied by a mage. His mind felt a step too far.
Yet he’d had no luck finding a co-pilot who wasn’t a mage, and if things continued as they were Fenris would never be a pilot in his own right. That did not sit well with him.
---
“Fine. Match any mage you deem suitable.”
“Hn?”
Fenris rolled his eyes, “You heard me, mage.”
“Fenris, it’s the middle of the night!” Fenris was already walking away from the door he had pummeled until the mage answered. Anxiousness gnawed at him that he was making a grave mistake. What choice was left? To waste himself doing nothing while the Kaiju destroyed Thedas, or swallow his fear and at least try. Perhaps he would prove Anders wrong and that would be it’s own reward.
---
“You?”
Anders had the gall to grin at him. “Me.”
Fenris’ glare snapped to Hawke who raised his hands in meek surrender, “You agreed to it, Fenris.”
“I did not.”
Anders pointed to his own face, “Mage.”
“Abomination,” Fenris corrected, “I read your file.”
The mage’s nostrils flared with offence again, “And I read yours: slave. Maybe we’re more alike than you think.”
The crack of the sparring poles had the gathered crowd wincing as Anders barely managed to block Fenris’ blow. “You compare you gilded tower to slavery , mage?!”
Varric peered up at Hawke who was watching the explosive sparring with open regret, “You sure this was a good idea?”
“Anders said they might be-,” The thud of Fenris’ back hitting the sparring ring floor had them all cringing but the elf did not remain down for long, “-drift compatible?” Hawke finished skeptically.
“Five gold on Fenris!” Isabela called, clapping as Fenris hurled Anders into the opposite wall.
Anders’ skin broke out into blue fissures of fade light as he rose from his slump, light streaming from his eyes in a terrifying blaze that stunned everyone in the room.
“I’ll take that, Rivaini,” Varric chuckled, breaking the silence.
In response to Anders’ lighting up, Fenris did likewise. He matched Anders step for step until they were striking out with their sparring weapons again and again. Anders had more familiarity with the pole’s stave-like size and he wielded it with a powerful dexterity Fenris hadn’t expected. That misjudgement had let Anders score the first point, but Fenris had brought them even again just as fast.
The overhead strike Fenris lashed out with was parried by a sharp tap to the pole as it descended, the mage stepping into Fenris’ space and resting the flat of his weapon against Fenris’ throat. “Two,” Anders gloated, voice ringing with the unnatural tone of his possession.
Snarling, Fenris gripped either end of his pole and dropped down to sweep it behind Anders’ knees, flooring the mage in an instant. Smoothly standing again, Fenris pressed the pole under Anders’ chin. “Two.”
In a rash and obvious move, Anders kicked at Fenris’ knee. Fenris caught the mage by his ankle but Anders had the momentum needed to carry Fenris to the floor. Scrambling on top, Anders kicked away Fenris’ weapon and held his own to Fenris’ throat, a little harder than was necessary. “Three.”
Fenris flipped them effortlessly, Anders’ legs uselessly kicking about his waist as Fenris pinned him to the floor and forced Anders’ own sparring weapon to the mage’s throat. “Three,” Fenris growled. He had won.
But Anders was laughing.
“What is so amusing?” Fenris demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Anders said, not sounding sorry at all, “It looks like we’re compatible.”
“You are not serious.”
“Fenris, this is everything you wanted- you have a co-pilot!” Hawke clapped his hands as Varric passed Isabela five coins.
Fenris would not call this everything he had wanted.
“Uh, Fenris?” Anders spoke up, “Could… you let me up?” To illustrate his point, Anders shifted under Fenris and Fenris felt how closely pressed their groins were. Now that the fighting was over, the intimacy of the position hit Fenris and he scrambled back in alarm. “Thanks,” Anders muttered, “So… congratulations?”
Fenris did not think ‘congratulations’ was the right word. Now that he had found a compatible partner there was the small matter of actually drifting together and the reality that he would have to share his mind with Anders’ was slowly sinking in.
“This was an awful idea,” Fenris said.
“It was your idea.”
“At your suggestion.”
Anders closed his mouth a few times before grinning, “Point, partner .”
Fenris groaned.
---
“This isn’t going to be anything like-”
“I know, mage.”
Anders’ nostrils flared. Fenris felt smug every time he recognised the action. “I am trying to help you, elf.”
The enchanted collar clicked around Fenris’ throat and he felt his heart hammering. It wasn’t heavy but it reminded him painfully of another life- another him . “I am fine.” It helped to see the glittering chain connected to the collar around Anders’ neck. The cuffs came next, criss-crossing chains between where they stood tying his left wrist to Anders’ left, his right to Anders’ right. If the drift wasn’t strong enough, the chains would tangle when they moved at odds with each other and the jaeger would not respond.
“Sandal?” Hawke called, distant from the jaeger’s head where Anders and Fenris stood.
“Enchantment!”
“Right… drift in three!”
Fenris could feel magic pulsing through the chains, scrabbling under his skin.
“Just let it happen.” Anders was trying to be soothing but Fenris couldn’t focus beyond the sensation of pushing in his skull.
It felt like a dam breaking but there was no relief once it gave. The flooding sensation swept them up and Fenris was drowning in memories that weren’t his own. Flashes of a cold library, a bearded man with a kind smile and soft kisses, Anders defiantly chained to the same man to prove that it would work, he was right ! The same man with a sun burned into his forehead and so much pain, it hurt so much!
The pain bled into panic and Fenris couldn’t remember how to breathe. Darkspawn, everywhere, no way to get out. They cannot fight against what comes from the ground and what comes from the sea at the same time, Thedas will fall! He cannot do this, Justice, please, he has to try and save anyone in this chaos. The mages, they need his help, he can help them together with Justice if-
“Don’t hold onto memories, let them go!” Anders’ voice snapped Fenris from the images, panic receding, but then they slammed into another.
It was not one of Anders’.
“Kill them, my little wolf,” Danarius voice was just as Fenris remembered it.
It felt real. It was real. He was back here again.
No! He would not do it! His body was moving, leaping to his master’s command, and Fenris could not fight it. He couldn’t even call out to tell them to run. The fog warriors trusted him, but how could the expect him to defy his master? Danarius owned him. Fenris tore them apart, men, women, and children. He had no choice.
“Fenris! It isn’t real!”
It was real. Fenris had done this. The faces of the fog warriors he cut down bled from his vision until he was faced with one.
“Get them out of that drift- now!”
“We can’t, he’s glowing! The lyrium is powering the drift- Anders, stop him!”
“I am trying, shut up!” That voice sounded familiar but Fenris couldn't place it. He was too focused on trying to put down the sword. He didn’t want this, they had helped him! “Look at me !”
Fenris looked. The lone man left didn’t look like a fog warrior. He had blonde hair and a gentle smile, with brown eyes earnestly stressing something that Fenris couldn’t understand.
“Kill him, Fenris,” Danarius’ demanded.
The blonde’s eyes widened as Fenris stalked forwards, a choked off sound leaving him as Fenris’ hand slammed into his chest. His heart was warm and everything in Fenris wanted to let go, but he couldn’t.
“F-Fenr-ris,” Anders choked. Anders- it was Anders . “H-he’s not… h-here. Y-you’re n-not a… a slave.”
But he had done this, he had , but... Anders hadn’t been here. The memory shook free and Fenris slipped his hand free from Anders’ chest, catching the mage as he slumped. It was just a memory and he had almost… “Mage, I-I…”
“You heard me…” Anders sounded wondrous as he studied Fenris’ face, voice raspy and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.
“You pulled me out.” Fenris felt like he was seeing Anders for the first time. The drift faded as his brands dimmed but it left him with a knot of feeling in his chest. It was new, and not entirely unfamiliar. Fenris could not look away from Anders as he realised the swell of feeling was not abating.
“I guess I did.” Anders smiled and the knot in Fenris’ chest tightened. It felt warm.