Chapter Text
Therion hadn't lied when he'd said he had a way to trap Justice. The spirit was nowhere to be found when they had entered the Fade.
Neither was anyone else.
That fucking plateau that Anders and Fenris had seen time and time again, floated in the disordered world of the Fade. Fenris wondered if it was ingrained in their psyche now. The Fade took on the whims of those that inhabited it.
"We're too late." Anders strode around the plateau, kicking up dust as he went. "Maker, help us. I think they're already in the city."
Drawing in a slow breath through his nose, Fenris shook his head. "You should go. I'll take you back."
Anders whirled around on him, an incredulous expression on his face. "The fuck? Oh, no, we aren't doing this. What happened to not leaving without me?"
"That was before we knew they were already in the city. We don't know what's in there, Anders."
"All the more reason to stay together. Don't pull your protective bullshit on me, Fenris. I got myself out of the Archon's Tower, remember?" Anders strode over to him and placed a gentle hand on Fenris' cheek. "I love you, and I know you worry about me, Love. Now take us to the Black City."
Fenris leaned forward and crushed their lips together as his brands flared to life. He used the feel of Anders against him, the warmth of his lips, the taste of him on his tongue as a way to prevent his mind from screaming, telling him that his body couldn't handle what he was doing.
Blue, iridescent light enveloped them as they embraced. Fenris felt the snap in the Fade, and he knew the door had opened. Still, he kissed his lover. Whether unable or unwilling to stop, he didn't know or care. He was dimly aware that there should be some irony in what they were doing. Mages had chased Fenris across Thedas in order to use him, to force him to do what he had been created for. Now he was willingly doing just that. But Anders wasn't a magister. Anders didn't want power, or to use Fenris.
The difference was palatable, and Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat.
It was Anders who broke the kiss, glancing over Fenris' head. "It's time."
It occurred so quickly, that Anders didn't realize what had happened at first.
Even before they had stepped through the Gate they had both felt it. This feeling of trespassing in a place that mortals were not meant to be. It felt like Anders' skull had become too tight, squeezing his brain as his mind tried to comprehend what he was looking at. He had balked, for the barest moment before stepping inside the Black City.
If the city had ever been Golden, it wasn't now. It seemed dead, like a blackened skeleton left to decay into dust. Their footsteps made no sound on the onyx floor. Anders tried to concentrate, to focus his eyes on anything in the massive room, but his mind rebelled and he would invariably be forced to look away.
He and Fenris gripped each other's hands tightly, needing the feel of something solid, something real in this disorienting place.
It was no wonder that they didn't see Therion ahead of them. It was no wonder that they missed the spell that flew from his staff.
And it was no wonder that Anders only knew he'd been hit when the pain took him to his knees.
He glanced down, his mouth slackened in shock. Blood had splattered to shine wetly across the dark floor.
That's too much, Anders thought dully. That's too much…
He could hear Fenris screaming his name, his lover's clutching at his shoulders. Anders leaned gratefully back as Fenris' hands ran over Anders' face, tilting it up so that the mage could look at him.
I'm going into shock, Anders thought. He opened his mouth to tell Fenris this, but he couldn't seem to make his lips move. His tried to glance down the length of his body, but Fenris firmly tilted his face back.
"Don't look," Fenris choked. Tears were spilling freely down the elf's face, his features twisted with grief and pain.
"Don't…cry… love…" Anders rasped. "Heal…"
Fenris shook his head, a choking sob escaping his lips. "Too much…" His lips curled into a snarl. "I'll rip him apart for this."
"That's… my… Fenris…"
As Anders slipped away, the last thing he felt was Fenris' lips on his own, and his lover's tears on his face.
Fenris' body shook in silent sobs. He couldn't make himself look down Anders' body. He knew what it looked like, had been right next to him when it had happened. The spell that the Archon had unleashed had sheared through Anders' right side, reducing it to a mass of shredded flesh and spraying blood.
Anders was a great healer, but no one could fix what the Archon had done.
Fenris opened his mouth and a scream erupted from his lips. He screamed until he didn't have air left in his lungs, until his throat was burning and raw. He sat on the floor, panting for breath as he looked into Anders' vacant eyes.
Rage like nothing that Fenris had ever known before welled up inside him. He pressed a quick kiss to Anders' slack lips and stood, his sword in his hands. With a cry, his brands ignited. He lost himself in the lyrium, in his connection to the Fade. Rhys had told him that Fenris had to let go of his fear. His one fear had always been to lose Anders, and that was gone now, Therion's spell obliterating it along with his lover.
The Black City snapped into focus. Little details that Fenris had been unable to center on became clear. He saw the enormous empty throne at one end of the room. He saw the Architect and Therion battling each other, slinging spells back and forth. He saw the elven woman collapsed in a heap on the floor, forgotten by her master.
But it was Therion that caught Fenris' attention. With a thought he was at the Archon's side, slipping in and out of the Fade to move quicker than the eye could follow. The magister turned in surprise and his hands flew in front of him, erecting a shield as Fenris' sword came down.
Anders stared down at his body in horror. He jerked his head to the side, following the battle. He took a few steps towards Fenris, his hands outstretched, when he stumbled to a halt, slamming against some sort of barrier. He pounded his hands against it, his mouth opening to scream Fenris' name.
"You can't walk away from your body," said a voice from behind him. "Silly, but true all the same. They can't hear or see you either."
Anders spun around and gaped at the figure behind him. "You… You're a talking wolf. A very large wolf, but uh…"
The wolf's tongue lolled out in a parody of a laugh. "Sorry, I missed my old skin. Is this better?" Golden light shimmered around the wolf. When it dissipated a woman stood in its place.
"Flemeth…" Anders breathed, or would have if he were still capable.
"I will forgive you stating the obvious because you are recently dead," she chided. "I have to admit, I did not expect to see you and Fenris here. Rhys was the one that had been tasked with the medallion."
So many things clicked into place, slotting together to form a much larger picture. "A small piece. Isn't that what you told Hawke? You wanted into the Black City," he accused. "All of this bullshit was to get you back here."
She laughed, the sound ringing in a way that other noises in the room couldn't. "You think too small. In part, but I could have had someone bring me here in a myriad of other ways. I just needed to be here for this moment."
"What are you talking about? What moment?"
"Life is full of moments," she replied. "Threads that are woven together to create a tapestry. A thread out of place, a different choice in color, and the picture changes. The fall of the magisters is one such thread. Aedan Cousland bringing the armies of Thedas together, Feynriel to urge Cato into seeking the Elvhen, Rhys to teach Fenris what he could do, Fenris to realize his potential so that he can fulfill his purpose. It's all a part of the tapestry that I wove, thread by thread."
"That doesn't make any sense," Anders burst out. "You said Rhys was supposed to be here."
Flemeth laughed again. "He is marked as one of mine, and he does as he wills. I would not be surprised to find that Rhys decided that Fenris was up to the task more than he was. If I had done this without the chaos that the Archon had sown, without the tearing down of the magisters, or bringing the Elvhen back then there would be little reason for it."
"What if you were wrong?" he asked. "What if Aedan had died at any point, or any of us for that matter?"
"Then I would unravel and start again," she assured him. "I have been here since the First. I am nothing if not patient."
Anders glanced over his shoulder where the battle was taking place. Fenris was bleeding from a head wound, the blood staining his hair. The Architect had one hand clutched ta his side, dark blood pouring between his fingers. "How is any of this worth it?" Anders whispered. "All of this pain and suffering…"
"Would you have asked me that years ago when you wished the mages to be free? Freedom is worth almost any price. I condemned my siblings by my actions. I separated them from the mortals. Only Hope and I remembered what we once had been. We are the First and we had forgotten our Father's words to us-we needed to adapt, to create. Justice has learned that lesson. Only by his association with you was he able to learn, to feel things other than his function. Faith knows this. As we speak, my sister has left her vessel and is inhabiting another. What she will learn from him, not even my Father can know. My time with the mortals has taught me this as well."
"That's why you wanted the Archdemon in a child, isn't it? You wanted Beauty to come to the Fade after he'd felt emotions other than what he'd been created to encompass." As the full scope of Flemeth's plans came to light, Anders found himself remembering every little thing that had done over the years, every little move by them all. "If Aedan hadn't taken up Morrigan's offer, you would have just waited until the next Blight." It wasn't a question and he didn't even bother to state it as such.
"My, you are a quick one. Tower training didn't strip that from you at least." Her golden wolf-like eyes stared at him unflinching. "So many of my brothers and sisters were lost, locked in their dragon forms and filled with madness even before the magisters came to the Golden City. I was the one that did that to them. I wish to save the few that are left. I mean to set them free."
"That's what you needed Fenris for." Anders said flatly. "He's more than just the Key to the city. He's the Key to unlocking the prisons you put the First Children in."
"Ah…" Flemeth breathed. "Now you understand. Unlocking the prisons will require one of mine. I was the one to create the prisons, one of mine have to be the one who will undo it. The change to Thedas will be monumental. I needed a world already in flux. The Grey Wardens had to have a leader that would be willing to work to bring the remaining Archdemons home. The Chantry needed people that were able to challenge them, to work towards creating understanding."
"I can't tell if you're insane or a genius," Anders muttered.
Flemeth threw back her head and laughed. "Hope would agree with you."
"I do." A woman appeared next to Flemeth. She waved unnaturally long fingers at Anders, and gave him an almost blinding smile. "But my broth—" She ran her eyes over Flemeth. "Sister this time… My sister has ensured that she will have her way. The pieces are in play, and there is no turning back now."
Hope was beautiful. She looked like every painting of young innocence, and when she smiled, Anders felt some of the tension ease out of him.
"You two have spoken long enough. It's time for Anders to go." Hope held out her hand towards the mage.
"No!" Anders gestured behind him toward Fenris. "I won't leave Fenris. What will happen to him?"
The smile Hope gave him was full of… hope. "Don't worry. Fenris still has his part to play. You're part is over with." She drew up to him. "Sleep, Anders. Your time is done." Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his.
And Anders knew no more.
Fenris didn't think. There was no room for it. Cold anger had frozen any feeling or thought. He didn't feel the pain in his body from a myriad of wounds. Fenris felt nothing except rage. He didn't dwell on his lover's lifeless body, or the war that was taking place in the mortal world. None of those things mattered as much as the urge to feel Therion's heart in his hand.
If he let himself think of Anders, even for a moment, then Fenris would cease to function, his mind collapsing in on itself.
Therion was strong. He was the Archon of Tevinter and a magister that had never hesitated to use blood magic to obtain what he wanted. All of Tevinter either loved or feared him. But demonic magic wouldn't help him in the Black City, and the magister was beginning to flag from the double onslaught of the Architect and Fenris.
When Fenris' sword slipped passed Therion's barrier for the first time, the elf knew he had him. He slashed at Therion's arm, slicing it open to the bone. The magister screamed in surprised pain. Taking the element of surprise he let his sword slip from his hands, falling to the floor without a sound. With a cry, he shoved both of his hands into the Archon's chest. He let the magister fell every second of pain, his clawed gauntlets tearing through bone and lung to get to his black heart. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat that Fenris felt against his bared palms, Therion's eyes glazed with fear.
"No…" Therion gurgled.
"If I could, I would make this last," Fenris hissed, his face twisted with pain. With a quick jerk and a spray of blood, he pulled the organ free, Therion collapsing to the floor.
Fenris stood over the corpse of the Archon of Tevinter, blood soaked and panting. He felt paralyzed, unable to know what it was he was supposed to do now. Slowly he turned his head, his eyes unerringly finding Anders' body.
Reality crashed through him and pain bloomed over his body, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep on his feet. His hands clawed uselessly on the floor, great wracking sobs tumbling from his lips.
So many memories crashed through his mind. He and Anders fighting, bickering the second they saw each other. Fenris following Anders because he was sure that the mage was hiding something from him. Anders caring for him on the ship to Ferelden. The first time they kissed. The first time they made love. The first time Anders told Fenris that he loved him. How Anders would always have something inappropriate to say, a crooked grin on his face. Waking up to see Anders had taken over his half of the bed, oblivious to Pounce lounging on his chest.
Fenris squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but the memories kept coming. The promises they had made together. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He and Anders were going to make love one final time, and then drink wine laced with deathroot. Anders hated the Deep Roads, and Fenris didn't want him to go there during his last moments on earth. When Anders' Calling came, they were going die to in each other's arms.
Gone… All of it gone now.
He wasn't aware of the Architect checking the elven woman, feeling that her pulse was faint, but still there. He didn't see Flemeth appearing behind him, her fingers hovering over his back in regret before pulling it away.
"You're not finished here."
Fenris slowly lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at her. "Leave me."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "What? No questions as to what I'm doing here?"
"I care not." Snatching his sword from the floor, Fenris staggered to his feet and pushed passed her, stumbling towards Anders' body.
"Would you rather die falling on your sword next to him, or doing something that would actually help all of Thedas?" she called after him.
Fenris paused in mid step and whirled around towards her. "Fuck you. You put these circumstances into play. His blood is on your hands."
"Not only his," Flemeth admitted. "My soul, if I have one, is stained with it. You can stop the Blights. You can ensure that mages will shake off the stigma of the magisters."
"How do I know these aren't more of your lies," Fenris hissed.
"Why do people persist in thinking I lie? I have been honest with you. Whether or not I have held information back is another topic for debate. You have the ability to free the First, to free the Archdemons from their prison. Once their song ends for the darkspawn, the darkspawn will cease trying to find and taint them."
"But the darkspawn will still be alive," Fenris countered. "They will still create more."
"And the Grey Wardens will continue on, ever vigilant," she replied. "Think of the lives you will save."
Fenris' teeth ground against each other. "Why should I care what happens out there? I do not plan to leave this place."
"And you won't," Flemeth said sadly. "Once the lock has been turned, the Key will be consumed."
Out of reflex, Fenris' hand went to his wrist, pressing his gauntlet down to push the bracelet of Anders' hair into his skin. Anders would have done it. Anders who had only ever wanted to help others. If it had been Fenris dead on the floor, Anders would have told Flemeth yes without hesitation.
There were times when Fenris thought that Anders was the better man of the two of them.
A tear slipped free at the thought, and he swallowed heavily. "What must I do?"
"There is one last door in the Black City. Find it and push, just as you have done before. Do not hesitate and be fearless. One of mine must know themselves enough that they will do what must be done."
Fenris nodded once and dropped his sword. He turned and stumbled over to Anders, dropping to his knees next to his lover. He caressed Anders' face, closing the mage's eyes so that he seemed as if he was sleeping. Except when Fenris laid his head on Anders' chest, he knew it for the lie it was. There was no comforting heartbeat, no rumble as the mage laughed at one of his own jokes. Fenris turned his nose into Anders' chest inhaling deeply one last time the scent of elfroot and lyrium.
Then he let go.
*
The battle of Minrathous was over in just one day. The Army of Thedas had control of the Juggernauts, and without their Archon, the city surrendered, throwing open their gates. The city itself was in chaos for almost a year. Cato had been reinstated as the Divine, and he had campaigned for Gaius to become the new Archon. The citizens had seen what the last Archon had done. Therion's cronies were rounded up and executed for colluding with him to destroy the Senate. It would take years more before Tevinter was even remotely stable.
The Wardens Christopher and Merrill helped to install a new Circle of Magi, in conjunction with the Divine Justinia V. Using what Anders and Wynne had built upon, they carefully made changes to how the Circles were run. New rules were put into place. Mages were allowed to see their families, and the Harrowing had been declared unnecessary. Mages with nothing to fear tended to not turn to blood magic.
Years later, Starkhaven and Kirkwall were united when the Viscount's son and Princess Vael were married. The celebration lasted a month in both cities, and the Hero of Ferelden made an appearance, using the opportunity to reunite with old friends.
It would be the last time anyone saw Aedan.
One day Aedan and Zevran disappeared, leaving only a short note explaining that the First Warden was heeding the Calling. For the next few years, more Wardens followed suit. Nathaniel Howe was first, leaving Carver behind and instilling him as Warden-Commander. Soon Oghren, Sigrun, Velanna and others took their last trek into the Deep Roads.
The only one exempt was the Warden Denerou.
Denerou had left the Wardens and taken the journey to Arlathan. His merging with Faith had saved his life, and the Elvhen had extended an offer to help him.
When Sigrun left for her Calling, Varric had locked himself away for a month. When he emerged it was to publish what would be his greatest book 'A Dwarf's Courage'. It was an enthralling tale of a female dwarf who while facing adversity as one of the Legon of the Dead and then a Grey Warden, never lost her smile and sweet nature. Those that knew him never question the inspiration, or his dagger that he named Sigrun.
Morrigan went to live in Arlathan with her son Aedan. She frequently sent her son to Weisshaupt using the power of the Evluians. She and the Architect made great strides in finding a cure for the taint, but they never got any further than lengthening the lives of the newly Joined, changing the spell. It would do nothing for those who had already partaken.
The darkspawn changed.
The reports were slow to trickle in, but once they did, the Wardens saw the pattern. The only one who knew what had happened in the Black City was the Architect, and he had told only Aedan Cousland the tale. Of how Anders had died, and Fenris had killed the Archon in retribution. He had told Aedan that Flemeth had appeared, urging Fenris to help her one last time. The city was Golden once more, and the Architect had been pushed from the Fade by the power of Fenris opening the door, the elven woman with him. He had seen and heard enough, though.
All over Thedas, people's dreams were a little brighter. Only those that knew what Fenris had done understood why. Fenris had released the First, bringing them back to their full glory.
Seheron
Adelric awoke with a start, a scream half dying on his lips. He sat upright, the sweat on his skin cooling. He shivered and buried his face in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing and his rapid heartbeat.
It had been so long since he'd had one of those dreams, that he'd finally thought he'd gotten passed it. Ever since he'd been a small child, the nightmares had plagued him, showing him images of horrifying creatures that crawled out of the earth to devour all in their path. When he'd been younger, his mother had climbed into bed with him, and held him close until his terrified sobbing had abated.
He hadn't had her when he had gone to the Circle.
He still had seen his parents and brother once a month when they had come to visit, but that had not helped when night had fallen. As he'd grown older the nightmares had slowed down, disappearing for a time all together. In their place were dreams of adventure, of friends that he could never quite make out.
There also had been his lover.
Adelric would wake up hard and aching, his hands stealing under his blankets before his roommates could wake up and catch him. He had hated those dreams as much as the nightmares. It didn't matter who he was with, they never seemed to capture the intensity and love that his dream lover was capable of. Adelric couldn't help but compare, and his lovers in the waking world had always been found wanting.
It hadn't been fair of him, he had known that.
He sighed and threw back the covers. Getting to his feet, he padded naked to the washbasin. Maker, Seheron was hot. When Medwin had asked him to come to represent the Anderfels at a wedding, Adelric hadn't known what he was getting into. He'd gone from one extreme to another-from the biting cold of Hossburg in the Anderfels, to the searing heat of Seheron. He gingerly touched the back of his neck. Less than three hours in the city and Adelric had gotten himself quite a sunburn, his fair skin baking under the relentless sun.
But he had to admit to himself, that even if he had been aware of just how hot it was going to be, he wouldn't have turned down the chance to leave the Anderfels. Adelric had always wanted to go traveling, to see the world that he'd only read of in books. Medwin, being the fine king and excellent brother that he was, knew this and had offered to have Adelric go in his place.
Adelric thought that Medwin had known how fucking hot it was, and hadn't wanted to brave it.
He glanced over to the well-stuffed chair next to him. His dress robes were all laid out and freshly pressed. Fuck… The last thing he wanted to do now was go to a wedding. Not when he still felt the aching hole in his chest.
His dream this time had felt so real, more so than any before. There had been blood, pain, and such loss, that Adelric could still feel the agony in his throat. Closing his eyes, he drew in a slow breath to center himself. He had more important things to worry about, like not making an ass out of himself. There were parties to go to afterwards, and he had to make an appearance at each one.
It was times like this that solidified his decision to turn down the throne. His father hadn't been too happy about it, but he'd understood. Adelric just didn't have the temperament for it. He was all cocky smiles, and inappropriate jokes. When he'd come of age and left the Circle, he'd opened up a clinic in Hossburg to cater to the poor, people that couldn't afford to go to the Chantry for healing. He liked his work and hadn't wanted to leave it.
Besides, Medwin was a far better king. Adelric freely admitted that.
After their parents had died, and Medwin had taken the throne, Adelric had fallen into a pattern. Each day he would wake up and make the trek to his clinic, where he would spend most of his time training the healers and taking patients. He would then head back to the palace, eat, and go out once again, hitting up the taverns.
His work fulfilled him. Rambling around Hossburg looking for a fuck didn't.
He'd needed to get away for a time, get his head straight. Maybe that's why he was having the dreams again. His subconscious was trying to tell him something, and Adelric could be damned if he could figure it out.
The wedding was beautiful. It took take place in gardens filled with brightly colored flowers that flourished in the unrelenting sun of Seheron. Adelric was seated with the other dignitaries behind the bride and groom's families. A tall man with dark hair and arms that bulged with muscle sat next to him. Occasionally he would lean over to whisper something into a blonde elf's ear, a smile on his lips.
Adelric had a suspicion they were lovers.
As the Grand Cleric droned on, Adelric found his eyes wandering. He'd never been good at sitting still for very long. It had gotten him into trouble more than once in the Circle. He glanced to his right, his eyes skimming over the hired bodyguards. They were there more for show than actual security, a way for the groom to tell his bride's family that he could protect her if need be. Some sort of Seheron tradition.
It was silly. Adelric had met a woman once, with dark skin and a smirk on her lips, that would have laughed if someone told her that she couldn't protect herself. Then she would have stuck a dagger in their chest for the trouble.
Good times. He'd shown her his electricity trick when he'd met her. When he'd woken up the next morning he'd found her place in the bed empty. He hadn't even gotten her name.
As his mind wandered, Adelric's eyes tripped over one of the guards. It took his brain a moment to catch up, and when it did, his gaze shot back to him.
Maker above! He knew he was staring like a mabari catching sight of a tasty haunch of meat, but shit…
The elf had dark hair that shone red under the noonday sun. His armor was deep black, jutting out in sharp spikes. His feet were slightly parted and planted firmly into the gravel, his arms crosse dove rhis chest. Adelric hungrily traced over his features, his eyes landing on full lips and olive skin. But it was when the guard glanced up, and their eyes caught, that Adelric knew that the wedding just got a lot more interesting.
It took him four hours to track the elf down after the wedding. He'd been able to get a name, but nothing more. Leto. He was infamous in Seheron for being more than competent with his sword. He worked for no single person, but if one was able to meet his exorbitant price then he was intensely loyal. Having him at the wedding had raised the groom in the bride's family's eyes.
Adelric smoothed down his rich, blue robes. The reception was in full swing and he'd as of yet found Leto. A small voice in the back of his mind that he liked to refer to as Medwin, told him that he wasn't there to try and seduce handsome elves.
Adelric promptly told the voice to shut up. There was always time to seduce handsome elves.
The argument won, Adelric turned the corner down a long, but empty hallway. The house was massive in size, decorated in all the splendor a wealthy wine merchant could afford.
Maybe Adelric should have paid better attention when he'd been told his host's name.
As he passed by an open door, he didn't see the hand tipped in claws that shot out to grasp the back of his robes. He let out an undignified yelp as he was yanked back into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
"Why are you following me?"
Adelric gaped at the elf that had his robes twisted in his hands. Scratch that. There was always a time and a place to seduce a handsome elf that spoke like what sex sounded. He licked lips suddenly gone dry and flashed :eto a crooked smile that never seemed to fail to elicit giggles from the whores of Hossburg.
Not only was Leto not a whore, he narrowed his eyes as well.
"Have you seen you?" Adelric blurted out. Oh, nice one! He thought to himself with no small amount of distain. Why not ask him if he has some mage in him, and would he want some?
"Excuse me?" Leto released him and took a step back. "Do I know you?"
"No," Adelric replied honestly. "But you could." Please say yes. Please say yes.
"You've been asking about me. What do you want?" Leto tilted his head to the side, staring Adelric down with his intense, green eyes. Adelric's breath caught. The room they were in was a small study, and the only light were a few flickering candles. The flames made Leto's eyes glitter brilliantly, small flames that Adelric couldn't look away from.
The ache was back in his heart, the all-consuming despair. He never quite remembered his dreams, only bits and pieces. But the feelings always lingered, weighing him down. As he stared at Leto, he felt tears prickling the back so his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to force them back.
This was a mistake.
"I…" Adelric sucked in a shuddering breath. "Nothing, excuse me." He turned to open the door when Leto grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back around.
Leto had first noticed him when the young prince had been seated at the wedding. He couldn't take his eyes off the man. There was something about him, something that scream, 'I know you'. They had met before, Leto was sure of it. But the memory eluded him, no matter how hard he tried to grasp at the slippery strands.
When the wedding was over, his job had been finished. Varania and his mother had scolded him when he'd told them how much they'd been willing to pay him in order to stand and do nothing for an hour. He'd reminded them that it was much better than taking a contract for something he would have to actually use his sword for.
Still he'd lingered at the reception, silently following the mage that had caught his eye. He was wary around mages as a whole. Once he'd taken a contract in Minrathous that had resulted in one of the worst experiences of his life. Danarius had been cruel to his servants, treating them like slaves. In the end, Leto had been forced to kill the man when he'd found Danarius raping a young elven woman on top of the body of her husband.
The Imperium hadn't liked that. It had taken two months for Leto to clear his name and come back to Seheron.
Ever since then, mages had left a bad taste in his mouth. He only dealt with magisters that had recommendations from former clients. No longer would he work for someone that walked up to him with a pouch full of glinting gold.
And he certainly didn't fuck them.
But there was something about this mage that casually wandered the ballroom, asking subtle questions about who Leto was. At first, Leto had thought that Adelric had been someone sent from Minrathous for retribution, but his own questions put those fears to rest.
Prince Adelric of the Anderfels. Born a mage and sent to the Circle when he was twelve. Older brother to the current king, he had willingly stood aside to let the more qualified man rule.
None of those things had told Leto why he should feel as if he knew the man.
"Why do I feel as if I know you?" Leto asked him. He pulled Adelric closer, careful not to puncture his fine robes with his gauntlet.
Adelric's eyes widened just a fraction. "Do you believe in fate?"
Leto snorted. "Are you trying to come on to me?"
"No!" Adelric paused and then nodded. "Well, yes. But I can do better than that. Usually..." He muttered the last under his breath. "I just mean… I…" He let out a cry of frustration. "Look, you're not with anyone, are you?"
"With anyone?" Leto repeated slowly.
"I just…" Adelric's eyes ran over Leto's face, dropping down to latch onto his lips. "Fuck it," he mumbled before leaning down and taking the elf's lips in a kiss.
Leto let out a muffled cry of surprise. The feel of Adelric's lips moving over his, the mage's taste, the scent of elfroot and lyrium…
Something broke inside Leto, something he hadn't even known was there. His hands slid up Adelric's shoulders of their own volition, pulling the mage close. Leto wasn't the kind of man that slept with people he barely knew. He was intensely private, and the few lovers he'd been with, had never touched anything inside him.
But this kiss, this kiss from a foreign prince that he didn't even know, was tearing Leto apart. It was madness in the extreme.
The kiss broke and Leto found himself chasing Adelric's lips with his own before he knew what he was doing. He felt his ears heat in embarrassment and he jerked back away from the man. "You… Why… What…"
Adelric laughed, the sound full of joy. "Yeah… Me too." He held out his hand. "My name is Adelric, some people call me Anders. By some people I mean everyone. It started as a joke in the Circle, and the nickname stuck."
Leto stared at the offered hand as if he'd never seen one before. His eyes slowly traveled upwards to meet warm, brown eyes. "Leto." He hesitated and then gripped Adelric's hand in a firm handshake. "They call me Fenris."
"Wolf…" Adelric grinned. "Fits you."
Leto couldn't believe that they were having this conversation, as if his world hadn't just been turned upside down. Things like this didn't really happen. A single kiss from a stranger didn't just change everything.
But as he took in Adelric's earnest smile, he knew that's exactly what had happened.
One month later.
Adelric hurried down the busy streets, weaving through the thick market crowd. His pack was slung over one shoulder and it bounced against his hip with each stride.
Medwin was going to be pissed.
Not only had Adelric ditched the reception, but he hadn't made it to any of the parties he was supposed to have attended over the past month. It was his brother's fault really. Adelric couldn't be blamed for spending the past few weeks in bed with Leto. Anyone who saw the elf wouldn't blame him for that. Leto had even gifted Adelric with a kitten. A kitten! How could Adelric do any other than to give him as many blowjobs as the elf could take after that?
As if the kitten could read his thoughts—and Adelric had always maintained that they could—he popped his head out of the opening in the pack and meowed in his ear.
"I know, Pounce," he huffed out as be started to run. "I'm late. I knew this would happen, but we had to let Leto have some time with his family before we set sail."
Turning a corner, he skidded to the halt in the street and whirled to the right. He knocked impatiently on the door of the large, but modest, house. Almost hopping from foot to foot in his excitement, he couldn't keep the grin off his face when the door opened.
Leto stood on the threshold, a small pack in his hand. "You're late. I've been ready for an hour."
Adelric was momentarily struck dumb, as he always was when Leto peered at him with those wonderful green eyes. Most of the trees in the Anderfels were like the rest of the country, dense and hearty, built to withstand the freezing cold temperatures and harsh earth. Until he'd come to Seheron, he'd never seen the myriad shades of green that the world had to offer.
Leto's eyes were his favorite by far, seeming to shift in color with his mood.
Leaning down, he took Leto's lips in a deep kiss. Even though it wasn't his fault that he'd missed the parties—Adelric was firm in his belief it was Medwin's somehow—he was still going to have to thank his brother for sending him. If he hadn't, Adelric would never have met Leto. He never would have kissed him, made love with him, felt what it was like to be with someone that not only compared to his dream lover, but exceeded him in all ways. Adelric felt complete with Leto, and he wasn't about to let that go.
He pulled back and gave Leto a crooked grin. "I love you." It hadn't taken long for those words to leave Adelric's lips. A mere week after they first met. The whole thing was insane, but the two of them were going with it, not wanting to part from the other.
"I love you too," Leto whispered. "But we have to go. Our ship is leaving soon."
Adelric hesitated. "Are you sure? Leaving your family behind? You don't have to. I could figure out a way to come back, to stay with you."
Leto rolled his eyes. "I am sure. Varania and mother practically begged me to go so I would stop speaking of it. It's not as if I won't see them again."
A bit of tension hat Adelric hadn't know he was carrying leaked out of him. He held out his hand. "Ready to run away with me, Love?"
Leto shook his head, but Adelric didn't miss the small smile that played around his lips. He intertwined their fingers. "Always."
Hope grinned up at Justice as they watched the two men hurry down the street towards the docks. "See? The two of them never gave up hope. Not in each other, and not in themselves. I haven't felt anything like that in so long. I had to make sure their sacrifice did not go unrewarded."
"Thank you," Justice said. "They were my friends."
"They were friends to many," Hope added. "Our Father might be gone, but his children are not forgotten."
"Will they ever remember?" Justice titled his helmeted head at her. "Or is this rebirth as far as it will go?"
"They will never remember," Hope assured him. "They might touch upon their former selves in dreams, because the Fade connects all, but no more than that. This is a place of different choices. For some, those choices might make their life worse than another place. For Adelric and Leto, the different choices of others have led to different circumstances. They will be happy here."
Justice abruptly stepped in front of her. She could feel his eyes staring at her even though his helmet obscured his face. "They are not supposed to be here, are they?"
"They are now." She winked at him. Her bother was always such a stickler for the rules. "And they won't be the only ones. Don't worry, Brother. Do you really think Father would let me do this if it wasn't his will? It matters not that they don't believe in his power or his love of his Children. He loves them regardless." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, her hand ghosting through his armor and touching the spirit. "Besides, I like happy endings."