Chapter Text
Almost three years to the day after returning from Weisshaupt, Fenris' world fell apart.
He had been gone a month in the Deep Roads, and had just this moment returned. He still wore his sword strapped to his back and the backpack he kept all of his provisions in were in his hands, slipped off his shoulders when he had exited the basement and had seen the sun for the first time in weeks. His armor were dented and rent in places, and dried blood was splattered on his face and hair. With little to no light in the Deep Roads, it was impossible to ever get truly clean.
Clean was what he had wanted. He was tired and bone weary. He and Denerou had lost the mage that had come with them, a young warden named Heather. Anders wasn't going to take the news well. He took it personally when a mage died, as if he hadn't prepared them enough and had failed them somehow.
Fenris wanted nothing more than a chance to bathe, a hot meal and Anders, in no particular order. That wasn't true. He wanted Anders first. He hated to be away from him for so long. The drive to get back to the mage was what kept him safe in the Deep roads. It made him fight harder and smarter when he was down there.
With the Architect gone, the Deep Roads under Amaranthine were filling once again with darkspawn. Their numbers had increased steadily over the years, but they rarely ventured to the surface. They were more likely than not to be found in the deepest areas underground.
As Warden-Commander, Howe was making it his mission to map out as much of the Deep Roads that wove like a spider's web under Ferelden. They were constantly being sent down to chronicle darkspawn activities. Howe had a theory that if they could keep records of what the darkspawn were doing and where they could be found, they might be able to predict if they were coming close to finding a new Archdemon.
It was an ambitious plan, but Howe was nothing if not determined. Aedan had taken an interest in it, and had asked the other warden outposts—those that could spare the men—to do the same.
There was also the continual search for the Architect.
No sign had been seen of him since the day Merrill had released him. Wardens all over Thedas had been instructed to keep an eye out for him, but not to approach if he should be found. He was becoming a proverbial unicorn, always spotted, but no evidence of him being there ever being found.
Fenris slowed to a stop when he saw Howe and several wardens standing in the courtyard. Nate had a solemn look on his face, and he clutched a wrapped package in his hand. "Fenris…" His voice was grim and Fenris felt his heart speed up as dread descended on him.
"I don't want to hear it." Fenris took a step forward and the wardens near Nate closed ranks around him. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Howe," he began.
"I'm sorry, Fenris, but you have to listen to me." Nate blew out a breath and tossed the package at Fenris. The elf caught it deftly in mid-air. Some of the parchment wrapping tore under the steel claws covering his fingers.
Setting his pack on the ground, Fenris ripped the parchment the rest of the way as his eyes locked with Nate's. "I have no time for your games, Howe. I'm tired and filthy. Spit it out."
Instead of answering, Nate glanced behind Fenris to Denerou. "Take his sword."
The heavy weight of his greatsword was lifted from his back quicker than Fenris could process what Nate had said. He whirled around and almost dropped the package. "What are you playing at, Howe? What's going on?"
Denerou gave Fenris an apologetic look as he walked over to Nate. Taking the sword from his hands, Nate nodded at Denerou. "Thanks." Setting the tip of the sword into the ground, Nate folded his hands on the pommel.
"I'm sorry, Fenris, but it's for your own safety." Nate flicked a finger towards the package. "We received that a week ago. At first, we didn't understand what it meant, but it soon became apparent."
Tearing the rest of the parchment away, Fenris found a folded piece of paper. He lifted it from its wrapping, letting the parchment fall to the ground to be snatched away by the breeze. The paper was finely made, a crisp white that was rarely seen outside of those that could afford it. It was blank, and Fenris gave Nate a questioning look.
"Turn it over and open it."
When he did, Fenris forgot how to breathe. Stamped in blood red wax was the official seal of the Imperium. It had been cracked open, but Fenris would know it anywhere. A sun with dragons twining around it stared up at him. With shaking fingers, Fenris opened the letter.
The looping and elegant script of Arcanum was inked in large letters. Where Fenris had admired the quality of the paper, he now knew only revulsion. It wasn't unheard of for human skin to be used by the magisters in the place of parchment.
Something had been folded into the letter, and it dropped to the ground, forgotten as Fenris' eyes scanned the contents. The trembling in his hands traveled up his arms the more he read, until his whole body was shaking with fear and horror.
We have him. Come to Minrathous if you want him back, little wolf.
With wide eyes filled with dawning terror, Fenris glanced down to the ground. Next to his boot lay a hank of blond hair, the strands gathered together with a hair tie that was the exact match for the one that Fenris wore on his wrist.
The scream that burst forth from Fenris' mouth as he dropped to his knees, was like nothing the wardens had heard before. It was full of anguish that was wrenched from the soul. He clutched what had once been Anders' ponytail in his fist, and his eyes darted up towards Nate.
"You…" Fenris' voice was full of deadly intent. Later, much later, Fenris would understand why Nate had to tell him the way he did. There were no words, no easy way to tell someone that your lover had been snatched away.
But later was not now.
With a howl of fury, Fenris' brands flared to life. His green eyes became enveloped by the bright blue light of the lyrium under his skin. They tracked Nate like a predator with prey as he took a step back and held his hands up. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I'm so sorry. We'll get him back, I promise you. We—"
Another scream of rage escaped his lips and he lunged for Nate, springing from his crouched position. As he collided with the man and knocked them both to the ground, his hand sank into Nate's chest.
There but not there, in the Fade, but also in the waking world. Fenris' fingers slipped through armor and clothing, sliding through the cracks that no human eye could see. They moved through flesh and bone, until his whole hand was deep inside Howe, up to his wrist. Nate's mouth gaped as his mind and body tried to process-then reject-what was happening.
Fenris' lips curled in a parody of a smile. "I trusted you to watch over him. You gave me your word, Howe. You told me that while I was gone he would be safe. I should have known better. You lost my sister as well, did you not?" When Nate didn't answer quickly enough, Fenris shouted in his face. "Did you not!" Boots thundered on the ground as wardens came pouring out of the keep. Fenris was oblivious to it all, or he didn't care.
"So sorry…" Nate gasped. "Betrayed from the… inside. Blood mage… Have wardens… looking."
The laughter that burst forth from Fenris' lips was bitter. "Looking? You know where he is, where he's going. You will never find him." And they wouldn't either. Fenris knew it as sure as he knew that they must have been planning this for a long time. It had been too neatly done.
For three years Fenris had waited for the magisters to come for him, but nothing happened. The urge to constantly look over his shoulder had returned, and he had become paranoid. But when no magisters came, Fenris had slowly let his guard down. It had been a stupid mistake, and now Anders was paying the price.
Fenris would fight tooth and nail to prevent himself from being taken back to Minrathous. The magisters had to have known that, so they turned to the only thing that would ever drive Fenris to return—Anders. Once again Fenris had underestimated them. Their ambition and scheming would never stop. There were no limit on the amount of lives they would to destroy to get what they wanted.
With an abrupt yank of his arm, Fenris pulled his hand free. He got to his feet and stared down at Nate as he lay gasping in the dirt. He bent down and picked up his sword, sheathing it on his back. Without another word, Fenris turned and walked to his pack, scooping it up without breaking stride.
"Wait! Fenris!" Nate called after him. "You can't mean to go, not alone. I'll send wardens with you."
Fenris paused and shoved Anders' hair in his gauntlet. Sorrow welled up inside him as he felt the familiar glide of the silky strands against his skin. Once, long ago, he had told Anders that he was selfish for wanting to keep the mage close to him. It was because of that same selfishness that Anders had been targeted in the first place. If Fenris had done the right thing and left Anders, then the magisters would never had seen him as someone to be used.
But would it have been worth it? Would it have been worth the return to loneliness?
No. He wouldn't think like that. He wouldn't taint what he and Anders had together by doubting the time they had spent, and the life they had built. One way or another he would get Anders back, and when he did, he would make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.
Decision made, he looked over his shoulder at Nate. "No. I'll go alone. Others will only hinder me." When Nate opened his mouth to object, Fenris cut him off. "I will send you missives as I go, but nothing more. You don't know Minrathous, I do. And Nate… I'm sorry." Without giving Nate time to reply, Fenris walked out of Vigil's Keep.
Fenris stopped a mile from the Vigil and opened his pack to take stock of what he had. He had learned long ago not to pick up every little thing he found on the darkspawn. Still, he had a good amount of gold with him. The thought of it made the sorrow return.
One year ago.
"Why do you think darkspawn have money on them?" Anders asked. He and Fenris lay naked in their bed, their legs tangled together.
Fenris was kissing his way down Anders' chest and he paused to look up, quirking an eyebrow at the mage. "Are you seriously asking me this now?"
Anders grinned that goofy smile he always had when he was about to say something he thought was especially amusing. "Well, yeah. Don't you ever think about it? I mean, what are they going to do with it? Maybe they think that they can go to Orzammar and spend it." Anders laughed. "Can you imagine it? Darkspawn in the market buying those little stone figurines that the dwarven children like to play with. Maybe one of them will become an avid collector, and will build a display case for them all, show them off to their darkspawn friends."
Despite himself, Anders startled a laugh out of Fenris. "You're insane. Why am I with you?"
Frowning down at him, Anders' face took on a look of mock offense. "I thought that was obvious, love. I'm handsome, witty, have a great body and I'm a demon in the sack. What more could you want?"
Fenris caressed down Anders' chest and stomach, his fingers tripping over the scar tissue that marred his skin. "Such a lucky elf I am," he cooed. It sounded wrong coming from Fenris, and now it was Anders' turn to laugh.
Pressing a kiss to Anders' navel, Fenris smiled against his skin. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of elfroot and Anders. The smell of elfroot that the mage worked with to make his potions clung to Anders. It was in his robes and on his skin, overlaying the musky smell that was Anders' own. Fenris could not see or smell elfroot without thinking of his lover. It reminded him of all the good things in his life, and how far the both of them had come.
One mile from the Vigil, present day.
Ruthlessly, Fenris forced the anguish away. He would get Anders back, he had to believe that. Yanking the ties on his pack, he settled it on his back, shifting it so that it didn't hinder his sword if he needed it.
A week Nate had said. They'd had him for a week. Which mean that Anders was already on a ship, bound for one of a few places. They would have left from Amaranthine, but after that… Fenris had to choose, and he had to do it quickly. He could try and chase after them, or he could try and get ahead of them and find his lover in Minrathous. Either way would be costly if he chose wrong. He wasn't sure which magister had Anders, nor did he know where they would have gone once they left Ferelden. Landing in Kirkwall was obvious, but they could have just as easily taken a longer route to Antiva, bypassing the land for the sea.
Fenris quickened his strides and his boots pounded on the road, the urgency in his mind translating to his feet. He was so deep in his thoughts, that he didn't see her until he was almost on top of her.
"My… In a hurry are we?"
Skidding to a halt, Fenris sucked in his breath between his teeth. "You…"
Flemeth laughed. "Is that anyway to greet a friend?"
She was exactly as Fenris remembered her on that mountaintop so long ago. She looked ancient and young at the same time. Her head was held high and a smile was on her lips. It was the smile that unnerved Fenris most of all. It was full of cunning and secrets, things that Fenris wanted nothing to do with.
"Get out of my way, witch," he spat. "You're no friend of mine."
The smile didn't even slip at his tone. She seemed amused by him, as if Fenris was a small child that had said something unintentionally funny. "That's where you're wrong, Leto. You and I are about to become great friends indeed."
Fenris reached behind him and grasped the hilt of his sword. "How do you know that name?"
"Oh, I know all about you, more than you know yourself. Just as I knew all about young Cousland when I rescued him from Ostagar, and just as I knew all about the little Hawke when I saved her family as they fled the Blight. I know many things, Leto. I know that you are headed towards disaster. You will never see your mage again. As we speak, he slips further from your loving grasp." For a moment, a mere heartbeat's time, a predatory light entered her eyes. "But I can help you."
"No." Fenris would not bargain with a witch. No good would come of it. "You speak only lies. Now get out of my way."
"If you do not accept my help and advice, all will be lost. Not just your Anders, but everything in Thedas. You are about to walk into Minrathous and give the magisters exactly what they want. If you think you can take him back on your own, then you are sorely mistaken."
"State what you wish from me, and go," Fenris demanded. He didn't release his hold on his sword, but he did not draw it either. "Your kind do not give advice and help without a price. What is it you want, that you would delay me?"
"What I want?" Flemeth tilted her head to the side. "I want nothing more from you than two things. If you agree, I will take you to Kirkwall. What would have taken you weeks will take you a matter of hours."
"I want no part of whatever magic you think to conjure to accomplish such a feat."
"My magic will not touch you," Flemeth assured him. "Did Hawke not tell you of her flight to Amaranthine? You will travel the same way."
That gave Fenris pause. Hawke had told him how she, Carver, their mother and Aveline had flown on a dragon and escaped the darkspawn horde. If Fenris had not seen Flemeth turn into a dragon himself, he would not have believed her.
What was Anders worth? What was getting him back worth to him?
Everything. Anders was worth anything and everything.
"Your terms?" A part of Fenris was screaming at him, telling him not to do this. She was the Witch of the Wilds. Even in Tevinter they had stories of her, used to scare children into good behavior. She wasn't a magister whose motives were clear. She was old magic and old ways long forgotten.
A look of triumph passed over her face, and she didn't bother to hide it. "I will take you to Kirkwall, but no further. From there you must leave and travel to Weisshaupt. There you will ask Aedan Cousland one question. Do not allow him to tell you anything but the truth. He has hid from it for far too long, and it is time he faced what he has done."
Fenris was incredulous. "You tell me to ask Aedan for truths, but you speak in riddles. If you already know the answer, then you must tell me."
"Because it can only come from his lips," she said far too patiently. "His aid is essential."
"Then what must I ask?" Fenris growled between clenched teeth. He hated riddles. He could never understand why people couldn't just say what they meant and be done with it.
"You only need to ask the question that every warden has asked himself. How did Aedan Cousland survive killing the Archdemon?"
That took Fenris aback. He had wondered that himself at times. He knew how an Archdemon had to be killed by a warden, Aedan had made no secret of that. How he had lived where all others had died… It couldn't be as simple as asking a question. Aedan didn't speak on his battle with the Archdemon, and Fenris had always respected that. What was Aedan hiding? Damn Flemeth. She was going to force Fenris to pry when he should not.
Fenris of years passed would have lied to Flemeth and told her he would ask and never do it. But he wasn't that Fenris anymore, his word meant something to him, it had weight and merit. If he agreed to her tasks then he would see them done.
He took a deep breath. "And the second task?"
Flemeth laughed. "You will not thank me for it when you hear it, but if it is not done, you will fail."
She smiled when she told him.
Nate sat with his face buried in his hands in the dining hall. How was he going to fix this? He had tried to be what the Vigil needed, and under his watch the Architect had escaped and Anders had been snatched right from his bed.
No wonder Aedan had always been so antagonistic. Nate felt like screaming in frustration. He was a Grey warden and a Howe, he shouldn't be making mistakes like this. But he had, and now he had to make it right.
"Don't worry, Nate, I'm sure Anders and Fenris will be fine." Merrill sat next to him and patted him on the shoulder. "You sent out wardens after Fenris and you still have people looking for Anders. What more can you do?"
"Leave him alone, Merrill," Velanna said. She sat across from Merrill. "If he wants to flog himself into inaction then let him."
Nate's head shot up and he glared at her. "I am not—"
"She's right, boy." Oghren lifted his tankard and took a deep drink. He slammed it down on the table, rattling the plates. "Not your fault. Blood mages are bad business. Er…" He glanced at Merrill.
"What he means," Christopher interjected, "is that some blood mages can be slippery. They thrive on subterfuge." Merrill beamed at Christopher and he smiled back.
Nate opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the dining hall burst open and the last person Nate had been expecting to see strode in.
Walking so briskly it was almost a run, Fenris headed right to their table. Chairs screeched on the floor as the wardens that sat there stood up as one.
"Fenris?" Nate started. "I—"
But Fenris ignored Nate completely. He stepped around him and grabbed Merrill by the arm. "You're coming with me."