Chapter Text
Prologue
Anders hummed quietly to himself as he ground the small seeds, crushing them with the pestle and mortar. He inhaled the spicy sweet scent as they yielded up their aromatic oils and nodded in satisfaction; the vendor in the market had spoken the truth when he claimed they were fresh. So much of what filtered down to the market in Lowtown was old, dusty and had lost most of its efficacy by the time it exchanged hands for a few meagre coppers carefully scrimped and saved. But Anders had gotten lucky; a new herbalist appeared recently from Ferelden, and his stock was fresh and still good. Doubtless the quality of his wares would taper off over time, but Anders had taken advantage to restock whilst he could.
He carefully tipped the crushed seeds into the potion steeping in the jar by the fire then stirred them in before cautiously inhaling the steam. He nodded with satisfaction, then set the pestle and mortar to one side before cupping his hands around the warm earthenware jar. Closing his eyes, he willed energy into the brewing potion, augmenting it subtly. This healing draught when finished would be much more effective than those produced from the usual paltry supplies he was usually able to afford. A little would go further and last longer. And just as well, really; Hawke's various escapades of late had decimated his supply rather badly. The rogue had a definite knack of diving headlong into trouble – rather painful trouble recently.
He stepped back; the potion needed to steep a while longer, but the main work was done. Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up the pestle and mortar and the other implements he had been using, gathering them up in a bucket then heading towards the small yard that led off the back of his clinic. Pouring in water from a rain barrel, he heated the water with a gesture then set to work washing up.
“A quiet day, Blondie?” remarked a voice from the doorway behind him; Anders started. Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed the dwarf enter the clinic, but his smile as he glanced over his shoulder was welcoming.
“Varric! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, nothing major,” replied the dwarf, moving over towards a wooden crate and sitting himself down as he tugged off his leather gloves. “I was in the area and thought I'd drop by. I've brought your share from that last trip we made.” he pulled out a small pouch of coin and tossed it to the blond apostate, who caught it left-handed then tucked it into a pocket in his robes. “You look positively domestic, Blondie.”
“Just catching up on stuff,” replied Anders, jerking his chin at the water. “That last trip pretty much cleaned out the last of my supply of potions. I hope Hawke doesn't have any plans to drag us off anywhere violent in the next couple of days, because that's how long it's going to take me to brew more.”
“I think we've all earned a couple of days off, Blondie,” replied Varric with a grin. “In fact, that was the other reason I'm here; a few of us are getting together for drinks at the Hanged Man tonight. I thought you might like to come along.”
A wistful look crossed Anders' face. “I'd like to, Varric, but....”
“No buts, Blondie. You're coming tonight if I have to come drag you there myself,” replied the dwarf as he stood up, waggling a finger sternly at the man. “Do I make myself clear?”
Anders blinked. Varric grunted as if that were assent and nodded. “That's settled then. See you at sunset.”
Anders blinked again then smiled as the dwarf left the clinic. An evening in good company without anyone trying to kill him sounded good....
Chapter 1
Anders rolled his eyes then dropped his cards face-down on the table; he wasn't going to be winning anything tonight. Across the table, Isabela studied her hand, her face almost mask-like and inscrutable. Try as he might, Anders could not even guess at the strength of her hand. She could hold a hand of aces or all duds for all he knew. Isabela's game face gave nothing away, unlike Hawke's.
The rogue's face was carefully schooled into a neutral expression, but a slight crinkle of the skin near the outer corner of his left eye betrayed some emotion as his dark blue gaze slightly intensified. The dark-haired man evidently felt he was onto a winner.
On Isabela's other side, sat to Anders' right, Varric leaned back in his seat with a faint smile which gave nothing more away than the Rivaini pirate's blank mask did. Anders had no idea who held the winning hand at the table; his only certainty was that it wasn't him.
“Show your hands, gentlemen,” purred Isabela as she spread four aces on the table. Varric rolled his eyes and threw down his worthless hand as Hawke started, staring from the cards to Isabela disbelievingly.
“How the hell do you do that?” he exclaimed as Varric slid the pile of coin over to join the stacks by Isabela's elbow. She laughed, her voice low and husky as she reached for her tankard of ale and downed half of it with one pull.
“She's playing you as much as the cards, Hawke,” observed Varric with a wry grin. Isabela smiled and inclined her head slightly towards the dwarf.
“I've never lost as much coin to anyone as I have to Isabela,” remarked Anders, reaching for his own tankard.
“Except Fenris,” she replied with a grin. “Speaking of which, where is our favourite broody elf?”
Anders blinked as three pairs of eyes turned towards him.
“What?” he blurted out. “Why do you all assume I know where he is? Fenris is his own person. He comes and goes as he pleases; I don't keep tabs on him!”
Isabela merely smirked, Hawke raised an eyebrow, and Varric tapped a finger on the worn wooden surface of the table, a speculative look in his eye. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Anders flung his hands up in exasperation.
“I haven't seen Fenris in about a week since we got back from the smugglers' caves. He went off to his mansion, I went back to my clinic. I've been pretty busy with patients, and I doubt Fenris wants to hang around watching whilst I patch up broken arms, festering wounds and deliver babies. I've been too occupied with the clinic to leave until Varric came by earlier to drag me out for the evening.” They continued to watch him with an air of expectation. “We don't live in each others' pockets, you know! We do have separate lives!”
Hawke glanced around the others. “So, no-one has seen Fenris in several days then?” He seemed to be continuing a conversation they had been having before Anders' arrival. The mage glanced around the table.
“Wait, you mean no-one has seen him? Not just me?” Isabela shot him a curious look as a note of alarm crept into his voice.
“I saw him about four days ago when he dropped by for his share of the proceeds from the last trip,” said Varric. “I'd assumed he was hanging out in Darktown with you, Blondie.”
“Now why would our favourite glowing elf be hanging out with Anders?” Isabela interjected. “Have I missed something?” She leaned forward, her eyes lighting up with interest.
“He just can't resist my dashing good looks and dazzling wit,” shot back Anders, darting a glare at her. He glanced back to the dwarf. “And you didn't think to mention this when you dropped by to visit?” he added incredulously. Varric shrugged and spread his hands.
“It slipped my mind briefly, Blondie. You didn't seem worried by anything so I figured all was okay on that score.”
Anders dropped his gaze to his hands where they gripped the tankard tightly. With an effort he loosened his fingers and drew a slow breath. “Fenris is capable of taking care of himself,” he said quietly. “More than capable.”
“Let me get this straight – you? And Fenris?” drawled Isabela, then chuckled as a dark flush rose from Anders' collar up his neck and across his cheeks. “How on earth did I miss this?”
“Isabela,” said Hawke warningly as she chuckled throatily.
“It's none of your business,” snapped Anders, glaring at her angrily.
“But I thought you two hated each other! He scares the living daylights out of you!”
“He does not!” Anders exclaimed hotly, straightening up with indignation.
“Well, I can see that now,” she laughed. “How long has this been going on?”
Anders pushed himself abruptly away from the table and stood up. “Long enough but not as long as you think.”
“Anders, where-” began Hawke. Anders turned to Varric.
“I think I'd better get back to the clinic,” he said. “Thanks for the invite, Varric.” He nodded to Hawke. “Hawke.” The rogue raised his tankard in farewell.
“I'm sure he'll turn up, Anders,” he said in a reassuring tone. Anders jerked his head in what passed for assent before darting a last glare at Isabela before turning on his heel and heading back downstairs and headed for the door.
“Way to go, Rivaini,” muttered Varric as he reached for the cards.
“What? What did I say?” she protested as Hawke shook his head and downed the rest of his ale before calling for refills.
…..
Anders strode rapidly through the darkened streets of Lowtown, heading towards the quieter streets of Hightown.
Fenris is capable of taking care of himself. More than capable. His earlier words echoed through his other thoughts. Yes, more than capable, and for reasons that Isabela was completely unaware of – but that hadn't stopped a feeling of unease from steadily growing in his heart.
He remembered the night he had woken in his clinic to find Fenris leaning over him, a concerned look upon his dusky features at having found the apostate passed out across his desk, pages he had no collection of writing scattered across the old wooden surface and nestled beneath his ink-stained cheek. The elf had drawn him to his feet, steadied him as he swayed, and then kissed him.
He kissed him.
Despite the events that had transpired upon Sundermount, the overt expression of desire from the usually-taciturn, prickly and aloof elf had completely taken Anders by surprise. He had surrendered to the kiss completely, melting against the elf.
And then, after a long, bone-meltingly sweet kiss, Anders had swooned, exhaustion and sleep deprivation getting the better of him, and Fenris had silently swept him up, laid him down upon a nearby cot, tucked him up – and then left as silently as he had come.
Since then, Hawke had dragged them both off on one adventure after another; sometimes Anders, sometimes Fenris, sometimes both together. They had barely had a chance to draw breath between excursions, much less talk together and explore further this strange, unexpected kindling of... what, exactly? Desire? Lust? Anders still wasn't sure how to refer to the feeling that had grown between them upon the mountain as first one, then the other had come close to death only to be rescued by the other – and not once, but several times. Whilst upon an excursion with Hawke there was no time or privacy for one-to-one discussions or exploration of feelings; and upon their return Anders had just been too busy to seek out the elf alone. He had assumed the elf was similarly busy in his own fashion; certainly that night's visit was not repeated. Fenris had dropped by one afternoon with a bundle of fresh elfroot he'd picked up in the Hightown market, but Anders had been rushed off his feet that day with a larger-than-usual influx of patients and by the time he'd straightened, wiping blood from his hands and brushing errant strands of hair out of his eyes, the elf had gone.
Had it really been a week since they'd gotten back from dealing with that group of slavers in the smugglers' caves? He counted back upon his fingers, tapping them against the patchwork leather of his coat as he strode through silent streets, taking the steps up to Hightown two at a time with his long stride. Yes, it had; he had lost track of time, caught up with his duties in the clinic. He felt a surge of guilt at having let Fenris slip his mind so easily for so long.
His pace quickened as he approached the dilapidated mansion Fenris had claimed as his own. No doubt the elf would scoff at his sense of alarm and have some sarcastic quip when-
Anders slowed as the door of the mansion came into view. It stood ajar, hanging from one hinge. Dark splashes marked the stone of the doorstep.
“Fenris?” Anders halted and stared. Then he leapt to the door and shoved it aside as he ran inside. “Fenris!”
His voice echoed through the empty hall. Fenris was gone.