Chapter Text
Fenris groaned as he threw his legs over the side of his ramshackle bed. Who in the Makers name was mercilessly beating down the door to his mansion? He looked through the hole in the ceiling as he picked up his sword. From the shade of the light penetrating room, Fenris guessed it was mere minutes past dawn. Sword raised, he silently descended the stairs to his foyer.
"Fenris, open up. It's Hawke!" The pounding slowed, but became louder, shaking the door with the impact of each knock.
Who else.
"Fasta Vas." Lowering his sword to open the door, Fenris cursed Hawke under his breath in Acranum.
"What do you need, Hawke?"
"Well, good morning to you too, Fenris. Always such a ray of sunshine, aren't we." Hawke waited until Fenris took notice of his mocking grin before he continued, "Aveline got caught up in guard business." Hawke rolled his eyes and gestured his head back and to the left, towards the Viscount's Keep. "I need a warrior. We're off to the Wounded Coast yet again."
Hawke twirled a folded piece of parchment between two fingers before presenting it to Fenris. "Nothing major, just cleaning house; rescuing some noble's maiden daughter." Hawke flicked the back of his hand against Fenris' bicep with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Get ready. We need to be under way before it gets any bloody hotter. I still have a... stop to make." Fenris shot Hawke a suspicious glare, still slightly groggy from being awakened. Hawke answered the elf's salty glare with a scratch of his beard as Fenris all but dragged his sword back up the stairs.
Fenris was grumbling again as he descended the stairs, fully armored and packed for a few days on the coast.
| ~o~ |
"Getting supplies?" Fenris asked flatly as they started towards the Lowtown bazaar. He wasn't sure why else they'd be on that particular route, when the gates of Kirkwall closest to the coast were, in fact, in the opposite direction.
"Uhh, sort of. Heading to "
"Picking up Blondie," Varric interrupted, looking up from reading the parchment Hawke had just given him.
"Hawke, I do not like being mislead. I will not travel with the mage." Fenris stopped abruptly, nearly causing Varric to stumble into him.
"Oh, come on," Hawke said, lolling his head childishly. "You're the only other warrior I trust to have by my side in battle. We need you, Anders or no."
Fenris growled. Woken up early, dealing with Hawke in one of his moods, and now... this. What a fine day this had turned out. Fenris huffed again before his retort. "Fine." Hawke could practically see the annoyance bubbling in Fenris, anticipating Anders' presence. "This time." Fenris paused a while longer before he started walking again. "If you value your life, you will not withhold from me again, Hawke."
Hawke threw his hands up in the most sarcastic way possible, grinned, and headed further away from the Hanged Man towards Darktown, with Varric and Fenris in tow.
| ~o~ |
"Maker's balls, Hawke. What's he doing here?" Anders hooked a thumb towards the clinic door where the elf waited with Varric. Fenris hadn't entered the clinic, per se, more just hovered around the door. He couldn't decide which he'd hate more; standing in Darktown, or standing in the mage's sanctum of healing and salvation, as he so ironically put it.
Fenris huffed at his thoughts of irony and Anders' magic before he pulled himself from his musings, annoyed that he'd wasted a moment's thought on the damnable mage.
"Aveline had guard business. You two are just going to have to get along." Hawke's devious grin grew as he felt Anders' discomfort.
"I don't need anything else on my mind as it is, now I have to travel with that... that... close minded son-of-a ." The last thing Anders wanted was another heated debate with Fenris. He was tired of his hypocritical arguments. If anyone should have understood his cause, it seemed like it would have been Fenris; the former slave, the man who, until he fled to Kirkwall, had no rights, just as tower mages do now.
Hawke interrupted. "You're the only other mage I trust to have by my side in battle," he began, giving Anders the same line he'd fed Fenris, "we need you, Fenris or no."
Anders sighed.
Hawke tossed the folded parchment to into Anders' hand. "Wounded Coast... again." He raised a thick, masculine, caterpillar-y brow, waiting for Anders' response. He knew what it would be, just as he'd known what Fenris' would be, just as he knew that the four of them would venture, and succeed, and reap their spoils.
"Fine, but you owe me at the Hanged Man when we return." Anders smiled, a crooked thing, showing off only a cusped tooth and a stubble-covered dimple.
"Atta-boy," Hawke said as he clapped a hand on Anders' shoulder. Anders grinned back as he opened the letter and began reading it far too dramatically.
Champion,
You simply must help me! My daughter, Orlanna, was abducted by foul bandits. One of my servants has discovered she was taken somewhere in the Wounded Coast.
I bid you make haste, for I fear these low-born scum will take her maidenhood! That would make the arrangement of a suitable marriage for her very difficult. Please, return Orlanna to me intact.
-Reginald Thaddeus Spincter
| ~o~ |
"Blondie!" Varric yelled, launching a shower of crossbow bolts into the air, "two comin' up behind you!"
Anders thrust his staff straight into the air, lunged forward, and flung his arm out in front of him as he discharged a fatal fireball from his palm. As his victim burned to the ground, Anders twirled the staff in his hand and spun around to greet the poor saps that dared approach him from behind. "You've messed with the wrong mage," Anders yelled as he unleashed chain lightening on the closest enemy and watched, with a dangerous gleam in his eye, as lightening skipped from one now-dead body, to the next soon-to-be-dead body.
As the battle died down, Anders nearly fried Hawke when he suddenly appeared behind him. "Dammit, Hawke! You really shouldn't do that. You almost took a lightning bolt to the face." Anders wiped sweat off the back of his neck, trying to wring out the bits of moisture from his hair. "Maker's ass, its hot out here."
"Do you ever stop bitching?" Fenris appeared though the smoky residue left by one of Hawke's damn flasks, massive broadsword, bloody and gleaming in the sun, hoisted cockily over his shoulder.
Varric laughed. Anders ignored the elf's comment, obviously directed at him. "What's up with all these bloody Tal-Vashoth? Last I recall, we already took out some of these encampments." Anders scratched his head and turned to Hawke and Varric.
"You would be correct, Blondie. It's like they've multiplied since your epic duel, O' Champion of Kirkwall." Varric looked up from his task of grooming Bianca with a mocking grin.
"So it seems," Fenris added.
"Maybe they are rebel stragglers from the group that fled my fair city." Hawke nudged Anders with his elbow.
"We've already taken out three entire groups, and we're not even through searching the first part of the coast yet." Varric's tone was more serious now. "There's definitely more of 'em. We best be more cautious. If the trend keeps up, were in for a long couple'a days."
Anders sighed. "Well, regardless, we should rest. Rehydrate. Get the damned sand out of our bloody boots."
Fenris shot Anders a cocky glare regarding the 'boots' comment, with his head bowed, hair covering most of his face. Anders kicked sand at Fenris' feet and huffed over to sit on a rock, thrusting his staff down into the sand.
"Right. Let's find some shade." Hawke looked up at the sun, holding the rolled map up to shade his eyes. "I need to look at the map a bit anyway."
| ~o~ |
"Hawke... I think we've passed this boulder before." Hawke shot Anders a lethal glare from over the top of his map. "It's just... we've combed a good part of the coast, and there's no sign of this girl, or any bandits for that matter." Anders' tone was carefully chosen, for once.
"Would you like to lead, Anders?!" Hawke was getting angry. He was hot, exhausted, covered in grime and sand, and not in the mood for Anders' smart mouth. Fenris huffed loudly at the thought of the abomination leading the way, but remained silent otherwise.
"Alright, that's enough. He's right, Hawke. We should set camp for the night and continue tomorrow. We'll start here, and..." Varric traced a finger over a line in the map, "and here." He pointed to a ridge of the coast in the opposite direction that they had been heading.
Hawke crinkled the map a little. "Fine. There was a small cavern not too far back east."
| ~o~ |
The next day, their journey though the coast was just as hindered by Tal-Vashoth as the one before it. Three groups down before midday; it was, in fact, worse than the previous day.
"Son-of-a! Hold still, Hawke!" Hawke bit down on a cloth that Anders had shoved between his teeth. Anders worked skillfully to remove a particularly rusty, jagged hatchet blade from Hawke's shoulder. Fenris tensed up, holding Hawke down the best he could without worrying about hurting him further. He grunted and bucked against Fenris, nearly causing him to stumble backwards, as Anders tugged on the blade one last time before throwing it into the sand, still covered in Hawke's blood. Anders hunched over when he finished knitting the muscle and skin of Hawke's shoulder back together.
"You okay, Blondie? You don't look so good." Varric tossed him a waterskin.
"I'm alright. Gettin' a little depleted." Anders ran a hand over his pseudo-beard, streaking a little of Hawke's blood along his jaw. "Taking down those Saarebas took more mana than I'm comfortable with." He was breathing heavily in the stagnant, humid air. "So damn hot..." Anders slid his back down a boulder until he was resting in the sand.
Hawke groaned when he went to move his shoulder around. "Thanks, Anders," he said gruffly.
"I need to regain some mana before we head into another ambush." Anders' tone was serious until the last word. Hawke shot him a look.
| ~o~ |
Finally, they came upon a seemingly abandoned encampment. As soon as Varric pointed it out, sharing hopeful excitement with his companions, they were attacked by another group of Tal-Vashoth. Anders groaned when he saw at least two more Saarebas . He yelled out to Varric to draw his, and Bianca's, attention to them, hoping for swift resolve.
As Hawke's group cleaved though nearly all of their attackers, another wave crept into battle.
"Dammit!" Hawke screamed as he turned to see a young woman standing alone in the middle of the encampment.
"How many of these guys are there?" Varric yelled, releasing another crossbow bolt between the eyes of yet another Saarebas, who, apparently wasn't thrifty enough the throw up a shield. "Hah! Right in the face, on the house!"
Fenris swung his massive sword over his head, coming down on a particularly nasty and powerful looking qunari rebel, before whipping it around himself like a tornado of destruction, taking out two more that had approached him. Before anyone knew it, he was on the complete opposite side of the battle, taking out two more Tal-Vashoth that were surrounding Varric.
"Shit! Bandits!" Anders screamed as he raised his hands into the air, reaching into his meager reserves of mana. Soon, a lethal deluge of fireballs rained from the sky over the newly approaching assailants.
Varric turned with Anders to hold off the bandits with their best ranged attacks, giving Fenris and Hawke a better chance to finish off some of the Tal-Vashoth. As the qunari numbers dwindled, Hawke rushed up the hill towards the encampment to protect the young woman standing there, terrified.
Anders was in bad shape. "Varric! On my left!" Varric turned to take out the assailant approaching Anders' left flank. He was practically out of mana, drawing upon his own energies to cast spells of desperation. He fought off another bandit with the spikes on the end if his staff. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt a foreign magic being willed somewhere nearby.
"Saarebas!" Anders shouted, unable to see the magical qunari. He knew one was somewhere near. He began backing away, trying to get a better look at the battlefield, surveying the area in an effort to locate the deadly Saarebas. As Anders tussled with the last of the nearby bandits, his eyes landed on the qunari he'd felt coming. Anders saw a massive blue orb of magic growing a short ways in front of the collared mage.
"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Anders pooled magic into his hands. Just enough to throw up a shield to protect him from the devastating blast that he knew came from that particular azure spell. Small blue sparks fell from his fingers when he made to solidify the shield around himself, and the spell fizzled out in his hand. Anders instinctually shielded himself with his arms and tried to flee the area. The unstable sand beneath his feet betrayed him, causing him to fall as he scrambled, sprawled out on the ground as the Saarebas approached, devastating blue orb still growing.
Anders used all of his will to try to rouse Justice. He'd been putting so much effort forth to subdue him of late, that it proved quite a toil. Finally, Anders felt Justice's resolve begin to disintegrate, but the qunari was quicker than Anders could afford. He was on closing on Anders. Fast.
There was a flash of incandescent blue radiance and Fenris' figure, encased in the ghostly lyrium glow, was standing in the mere ten foot gap between Anders' body and the Saarebas. Fenris' stance was the definition of defensive; his sword raised high, legs parted, knees bent, back slightly arched. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye which, if the Saarebas hadn't been under the control of his Arvaarad, would have made the qunari want to flee in an instant.
"You shall not ," Fenris screamed as he settled protectively in front of the mage's body, "have him!" It thrust the azure orb of magic into the chest of the elf as Fenris was upon him. The Saarebas' spell exploded as it lost control of its magic when Fenris' sword ran straight through the qunari's midsection, up under his ribs.
The explosion of the Saarebas' spell covered Anders' body in sand and debris, half burying him as he slid across the ground from the blast. He was disoriented, coughing, and desperately trying to gather his bearings, while attempting to get sand out of his eyes and mouth.
| ~o~ |
When he scrambled up the hill looking for his companions his heart sank deeper and deeper each second that he neither saw, nor heard any of them. Still rubbing his eyes, dizzy and disoriented, he thought he heard his name being called from a distance. He stopped and listened for a moment.
"Hawke?" He yelled in the direction of the encampment they had been fighting at before he got separated by the Saarebas.
"Over here!"
Oh thank the Maker! Sweet, sweet, dwarf.
Anders staggered up the hill towards his companions. He must have looked even worse than he felt, if Hawke's reaction was anything to go by. It wasn't... the man dramatized everything, but Anders suspected he still looked that awful.
"You uhh... got a little sand on your face." Hawke said smugly. "This is Orlanna. Safely in our custody, as promised."
"Broooooody!?" Varric yelled in the distance, slinging Bianca over his back before cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Pleasure," Anders said sharply, turning away from the young woman they'd just rescued. "Varric, where's Fenris?" Anders asked with unexpected urgency.
"Don't know, Blondie. Lookin' for him. You go that way." Varric pointed in the opposite direction.
"Shit..." Anders took off back down the hill he had just climbed to find Hawke and Varric. "Shit. SHIT!" Anders cursed as he ran. "Varric. This way!" He yelled back, remembering the ghostly lyrium figure that had stepped in front of him as he lay defenseless in the sand.
Anders was searching the area around the dead Saarebas, with Fenris' sword still ran through its chest, when Varric jogged up next to him. "Anything?" He asked.
"Not yet. I was there," Anders pointed to a depression in the sand, "and that fucker," he pointed to the dead Saarebas, "was going to finish me off, when Fenris stepped in between us. He's here somewhere. He has to be!" Anders rustled around some shrubbery before moving to look elsewhere.
Hawke was walking down the hill with Orlanna when Varric found Fenris' body. "Anders! NOW!" Varric yelled. Anders was at his side in a split second.
"Shit!" Anders yelled again.
| ~o~ |
There was a massive bloody splatter against a boulder behind Fenris. Hawke and Anders gingerly moved his body out of the dried shrubbery and into the sand, so that Anders could take a better look at what he was dealing with. Anders reached down to put his ear to Fenris' mouth and his fingers under his jaw. "He's alive. Weak pulse. His breathing is ragged, probably from broken ribs." Anders scooped the back of the elf's neck into his hand to examine the source of the blood soaking his hair. "Shit. That mark there," Anders nodded towards the huge bloody smear on the rock, "was from his head. He's in bad shape, with Maker knows how many other injuries."
Anders was suddenly enraged. "Hurensohn! Was hat er sich dabei gedacht?!" Anders rose and kicked at the sand viciously.
"ANDERS!" Hawke yelled for the third time.
"Was?" Anders practically screamed, still reverting to his mother tongue. He sighed and ran a hand roughly though his hair, causing sand to cascade into his face. "What, Hawke? What do you want?"
"Are you okay, Anders? Get your blighted self under control!" Hawke paused to stare at Anders, trying to allow him some time to calm down. "You need to heal him, now. What do you need me to do?"
"I... I can't. I'm completely drained." Anders knelt by Fenris' side again, brushing bloody hair out of the elf's face. "I need some lyrium potions." Anders dipped a hand into the pouch on his belt and brought it back out with nothing but bits of shattered glass.
Scheiße.
"We need to get him back to town. Back to my clinic. I will heal him as I can on the way." Anders covered his face with a hand and scratched at the stubble on his chin.
Hawke and Varric nodded as Anders pulled a sheet out of his pack and layed it flat on the sand. "One, two, three, lift." Anders and Hawke carefully shifted Fenris' unconscous body onto the sheet. Varric started tying off the corners as grips.
Hawke carried the top of the sheet, by the elf's head, for the first hour. Anders stubbornly carried the bottom end, even though he was having enough trouble walking as it was. When Varric came up beside him to take over, Anders swatted his arm away. "I'm fine, Varric. I can go a little longer."
Varric took the gleam in the mage's eye seriously and backed away with his hands up.
"I'm worried about Blondie," Varric quietly told Hawke while they rested for a moment. They watched together as Anders tried to gather his mana over the elf's body. Each time, the blue glow fizzled out and Anders punched at the sand. He was sweating furiously, face pale and beathing heavily. "Let's go, I can't do anything just yet," Anders told the group sharply.
He took up his hold of the sheet at Fenris' feet again. No one said a word this time. Orlanna trailed between Hawke and Varric the whole way.
A short time later, Anders fell to one knee, still holding onto his corners of the sheet. "That's it, Anders!" Hawke set his end of the of the unconscious elf's makeshift stretcher into the sand and sternly approached the kneeling mage.
"I'm fine. Just give me a seco "
"No! You're been pushing youself too hard. I don't know why you're doing this, but it ends now." Hawke's tone was severe and his eyes were narrowed when Anders looked up at him. Hawke may have been a complete ass most of the time, but he cared about their ragtag group of misfits. They were all he had now, save for Carver, but he'd been off with the Wardens for years; they were his family.
"We set up camp an "
"We don't have time for this, Hawke! Not for camp! Not for rest! We nee "
Hawke interrupted him again. "Dammit, Anders! Just a couple of hours." Hawke crossed his arms. Anders gently lowered the elf's legs onto the sand. "You can sleep it off for a few to regain some mana. You might even be able to heal the worst of his wounds." Hawke's stern look shifted to a more concerned one.
Anders said nothing as he stomped over to where Varric was preparing a fire and readied a place to rest.
| ~o~ |
"I healed the head wound enough to where it's no imminent threat. Tried to treat some of his broken ribs, but... I-I bandaged his midsection the best I could. No fluid in the lungs, thankfully, but his breathing is still ragged and weak. Nowhere near stable. We really need to get him back to the clinic." Anders was too exhausted to sound angry anymore. Instead, his tone was melancholy through and through.
Anders finally took the time to tell the group what had happened; the Saarebas, being drained of mana, falling ridiculously in the sand like a defenseless, firghtened child, Fenris, and the blast. He was weary by the end of the story. His hands were shaking and dark circles had crept up under his eyes.
"I just... It should be me. I should be dead in the sand back there. Not... Dammit. What was he thinking! Senseless, incorrigible, bloody ELF!" Anders kicked at the sand. "He hates me. Everything I am. Everything I'm capable of. And now... now." Anders trailed off when Varric put a hand on his shoulder.
They continued back towards Kirkwall, Varric and Hawke awkwardly gripping the sheet because of their height difference. They all rotated turns carrying the elf, stopping when they needed to, but never for more than an hour; just long enough for Anders to exhaust the meager mana that had built up over time, working on Fenris' most worrisome injuries.