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charbax · 6 years ago

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Wintersend’s Exchange

A gift for @dovabunny in the Fenders Wintersend Exchange! They requested:

Homeless Fen and doctor/nurse Anders who always tries to feed and dress warmly his elf. Fenris doesnt want or trust charity, he wants to be seen as a man - not a project.

also available on my AO3

It started in the winter. A winter’s night, precisely, when Anders is locking the clinic’s door after a day of treating injuries, maladies, and general complaining from late stragglers. Luckily, his Maker-sent secretary was more than happy to handle the last part (read: forcibly showing them the door by social convention or force) and when the patient line dwindled to none, he sent her home. That had been hours ago. Now, it was late, and Anders was more than ready to flip the sign from open to closed and head upstairs for some well-deserved rest.

No sooner than his fingers brushed against the card than someone rapped against the door. Anders sighed, debated turning the sign over fully like the asshole he was, then decided against it since the person technically did come before the clinic was truly closed. He opened the door with a heavy heart. “Can I help you with-” He started, then stopped.

“Yes.” Fenris replied, arms wrapped around himself and his threadbare clothing, the very picture of a shivering wreck. “You can help me out of this cold.”

Anders was too stunned to do more than step back and let Fenris inside. Fenris made a beeline for one of the waiting chairs and collapsed onto it. It was only then that Anders noticed the goosebumps rippling on his skin, the shaking in Fenris’ body, the way his fingers trembled even as he tried to hide them underneath his armpits. Anders sighed again, pinching the space between his brows. “What made you think in here would be better than out there? Or anywhere else for that matter?”

“Hawke is...indisposed.” Fenris answered carefully. “And it’s too late for anyone else.”

“But apparently, not late enough for the hard-working doctor, who’s spent all day holed up in a clinic treating people as their last line of healthcare. What, the walk back home not good enough for you?”

At least Fenris had the decency to look ashamed. Well, as ashamed as a prickly elf could look. “I don’t trust home at the moment.”

Anders’ long face grew longer. For all of his bad blood with Fenris, even he saw the cruelty in shutting the door in a runaway’s face. “Fine.” He relented. “Stay for the night, but I expect you to be out first thing in the morning.”

Fenris nodded mutely and curled up on himself – almost like a cat. As soon as the comparison made its way into his head, it took root and refused to move from Anders’ mind, following him all the way to the supplies closet, where he grabbed the least threadbare blanket and pillow, and back to where Fenris was huddling. “Here.” Anders said, tossing the items at him. “At least crash here properly, for Maker’s sake.”

A person with less than perfect reflexes might have been slapped face-first with bedding, but Fenris only caught the items with a raised eyebrow. Anders had already turned away to finally prepare for sleep, he heard a quiet-

“Thank you.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Fenris had already wrapped himself up in the blanket and curled into the pillow, stuffing his head under the cover until only the tips of his ears were peeking out. In that moment, he looked like any other elf refugee trying to stay warm in a none-too comfortable chair (and Anders can attest to that uncomfortable thing after an ill-advised nap during a quiet hour in the clinic). That image was a real, tangible proof of his care - even if it took form of a ball of blanket and silvery hair - and it reminded Anders why he treated people, or ran a clinic, or let in mage-hating runways.

He didn’t smile, but his steps going up the back staircase were much lighter than before.

His next time off was spent at the Hanged Man with Hawke and (proclaimed) merry band of misfits. It was certainly fitting considering the company currently present at their usual table – a set of twins, a police officer, the co-manager of the Hanged Man, a doctor (Anders), a runaway actor, an internet pirate, and a Dalish student.

And of course, Hawke himself, who was guffawing about something Varric said. Anders wouldn’t know since he was too busy losing at Wicked Grace badly.

“Well...at least all the cards are different this time. I really like how unique all of them are.” Merrill said as she peered over his hand.

“That’s not a good thing sweetness.” Isabela pointed out, laying out her completed set of suits, then appraised Anders with a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You really do have the worst luck. Can’t be helped really.” On his right, Bethany patted his arm sympathetically as she laid down her own modest hand.

Anders frowned at Isabela. “As opposed to cheating?”

Isabela shrugged, not-so-coincidentally jostling a naughty card nesting in her cleavage (much to the poorly hidden delight of Carver). “It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught.”

Hawke chose that moment to tune into the conversation and gasped. “Isabela would never cheat!” He exclaimed indignantly. Knowing him, he was 100% serious. Varric and Isabela exchanged smiles, then Varric patted Hawke’s bicep.

“We believe you Hawke.”

“It’s not the matter of believing me, but believing in Isabela.” He turned to her. “I believe in you.”

Isabela’s face contorted in a strange mix between amused and touched, which ended up making her look extremely seasick. Fenris stifled a laugh behind his hand, turning his expression to the closest person next to him, and found himself looking at an equally humorous Anders. There was a moment when their eyes met, a moment when Fenris wasn’t feeling the usual hostility and it was just him and Anders sharing a common laugh.

Then Anders turned his head, breaking the connection. Fenris returned his gaze to the table as the conversation moved on. It seemed only minutes before Aveline said regretfully, “Well, I have the morning shift tomorrow, so I should get going.”

Isabela took one look at Merrill covering her yawn with a hand and stood. “I better get kitten home too. Don’t get into too much trouble boys. At least, not without me.”

With Hawke’s innocent, “We won’t Isabela!” sent her way, Isabela put an arm around Merrill’s shoulders, dropped money onto the table, and left with her. Following their example, Varric and Hawke put their heads together to figure out how to pay for their night in the bar (“Put it on my tab.” Was Varric’s usual reply, to Hawke trio’s indignation, which then started a one-versus-three of who would get to pay it back).

As Fenris reached into his own pocket to draw out the lone bills he had, Anders’ hand slapped in front of him, startling him. Anders withdrew his hand without another word and stalked out, leaving behind a few bills where his hand had been. It was more than enough to cover his own split bill.

“Anders-” Fenris started, but the mage was already gone. He frowned. Despite his feelings on Anders’ ideals, he recognises altruism when he sees it, in the man who chooses to sleep in his own clinic. It’s not cheap to run the service that Anders does, and for as long as Fenris has known him, he not the type to spend frivolously when he’s saving for the endless costs of the clinic.

And yet. Fenris would not deny that Anders was not the only one who had been counting pennies, so to speak. His had pride dictated that he would not accept any of the charity money offered by his friends, but there was clearly enough money for both his and Anders’ meals. How did the mage know that would he would be short for the evening?

No matter. Varric was already grudgingly accepting the Hawkes’ payment, as well as sweeping the bills off the table and into his hand. There was nothing else he could do about it, in terms of paying.

It still left an unsettling pit in his stomach.

It was only more ‘kindness’ since then, disguised as inconveniences for Anders and often riding along the coattails of excuses. ‘I needed to get rid of some of the older blankets, take this one. There’s no holes in it, at least.’ ‘A patient made a pie as a thankyou, but what do you know, I’m allergic to blueberries!’ ‘Someone kindly donated a hand-made beanie and scarf. Unfortunately, grey’s just not my colour.’

Not that Fenris hasn’t been trying to refuse them, with the keyword being ‘trying’. Being in the middle of an unusually harsh winter and dry season for jobs, it would make sense to accept the help. But just because it was logical didn’t mean that Fenris liked it very much. It felt too close to the small acts of mercy Danarius would give to him, akin to throwing a bone to a very beaten dog after a whole day of posing and remembering lines and pushing himself to exhaustion, which Fenris was ashamed to admit to have lapped up as a sign of favouritism. Delicious meals, fine clothes. He might as well have been a glorified pet with a lyrium collar back then.

When Anders dumped a pair of earmuffs on him – elongated for long tipped elven ears – Fenris finally confronted him. “Why all of this?”

Anders fixed him a confused look. “I’m very sure elven biology is enough similar to humans that they both feel the cold somewhat similarly. Unless your prickly sensibilities chose not to feel cold in the air?”

“I mean why all these...gifts.”

“...I needed someone to dump them off? Lirene only accepts cash donations and there’s only so many mismatched scarves and beanies I can own before I would have to give them away as well. Not to mention I’m trying to watch my weight, so food’s the least of my problems-”

Fenris knew stalling when he heard it. “Then cease it. I’m not a charity case, nor a project. If you feel nothing more than pity for me, then I would prefer how we were at the start.”

Hurt flashed across Anders’ face, for a moment, then it was wiped away with a frown. “This wasn’t- this isn’t a- I wasn’t doing it to try to, Maker forbid, change you Fenris. Are you a prickly bastard? Yes. Do I think that you should be a little more sympathetic to the plight of mages because they’re so similar to your own problems? Also yes. Do I still think of you as a friend? Well, I do, unless it’s not been mutual this entire time, which I guess makes me an idiot.”

Fenris knew stalling when he heard it. “Get on with it, Anders.”

“I was, I was. Look. If I was trying to change you – which I’m not! - I would put a lot more effort into shaping you into a specific person, don’t you think?”

Logic warred with suspicion. “And what if you are only bribing me?”

“That’s assuming there’s anything you can give me.”

That stung more than it should. Fenris shook his head. “Then there is no sense to keep giving me things when I have nothing to give back. I do not want to be indebted to you, and I am not yours to shape as you see fit.”

“For the last time, I’m not trying to lord this over you. But I’ll stop it if that’s what you, honest-to-Andraste, believe is the logical thing to do.”

Yes. Fenris was convinced it was.

So the gifts stopped, and with it, so did whatever little camadrie there had been. The next time they met as a group, Anders barely acknowledged him. But Fenris had meant what he said, so he forced himself to swallow the bitter taste of seeing Anders’ eyes pass over him with a neutral glance. At the one after that, Anders chose not to turn up at all, citing a busy clinic as his excuse. Fenris didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

A few days of this apathy passed without fanfare, only for Hawke to pull Fenris and quietly asked if he had a fight with Anders.

“We had a discussion and cleared the air. Nothing else happened.” Fenris answered, if a bit testily.

Hawke levelled a stare at him. “Anders has been throwing himself into his work. He hasn’t been coming to the last three Wicked Grace nights, and he loves Wicked Grace. Either flu season was terrible, or you two are trying to avoid each other.”

“I am not avoiding him.”

“Yes you are. You two seemed to getting along so well with all the presents Anders was giving you.”

Fenris scowled, reminded of the reason why he was in a bad mood in the first place. Hawke continued, oblivious. “When I asked Anders, all he said was that he was giving you space. Did he do something Fenris? Should I be more worried? Were the presents themselves really that bad?”

...the meals may have been warm, but not the creations of a gourmet kitchen, and the clothes, clearly hand-me-downs despite their well-cared for appearance. “No.” Fenris said. “They were passable.”

“They must’ve sure been something if you didn’t want them anymore.”

They were hardly the rewards Danarius would shower him during the sponsorship, especially the ones Danarius gave when he was feeling more whimsical than demanding. But Danarius always had the ulterior motive of keeping Fenris docile and controlled. Anders just did it because he felt like it.

“Thank you, I suppose, for giving me something to think about it.”

Hawke clapped his shoulder, taking that as a sign that the problem was solved. “Not a problem. I’m always here if you need me.”

People to depend on. Those were rare. Maybe Fenris could do with one more.

This time, it was Fenris who was pacing in front of Anders clinic just before closing time. His earlier resolve had crumbled, and he tried in vain to gather its remains. He jumped when the front door opened, but it was only a lone dwarven couple ferrying a sleepy child out. He held the door open respectfully and stepped inside before the door swung shut.

As Fenris’ eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the surprise in Ander’s face from behind the receptionist desk. “Fenris?” Anders rose out of his chair, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I opposed your pity gifts. The company was…less than terrible, truth be told.”

Anders narrowed his eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying.”

Anders, as much as Fenris would hate to admit, had a point – here he was, after weeks of avoiding Anders like he had the Blight, and now, trying to make contact like he wasn’t the one who cut off Anders in the first place. The mage deserved honesty.

“I am not. I needed time to make sense of what I was feeling. I am not the best at words.”

Anders tipped his head at Fenris’ statement. At least he wasn’t making a smart remark. The fact that Fenris could predict a good Anders sentence and an irritated Anders sentence was an indicator that he probably knew Anders more than he had originally thought.

“What I said back then is still true. I do not like being in the debt of others. When I was. underneath Danarius’ contract, everything I received was something that could be used against me later. I cannot just shake this suspicion for it has saved me often. But one day, I would like to know what it would be like to walk freely, without distrust in every interaction. All I ask for is time and a chance to try existing outside that sponsorship.”

Anders stared at him for a long moment. Fenris willed himself to stare back, not defiantly, but in hope that his look would convey his sincerity. Finally, Anders spoke. “I will admit, it stung when you didn’t my goodwill. But that makes sense. I may be an advocate for mage rights, but even I can admit that bastard belongs in the Deep Roads, so it’s no wonder you don’t want anything to do with him.”

That’s all Fenris wanted and hoped for. He had nothing else to mention, so he nodded and turned to the door.”

“Wait.” Anders called out. “Do you somewhere to sleep tonight?”

Fenris faltered. He hadn’t been planning very far apart from hoping Hawke would answer his door. “I was thinking of asking Hawke, if he is awake at this time.”

“It’s very, very late so he’s probably not. Do you want to stay for the night? I promise, no doing this for bragging rights.”

Just as he reasoned on the first night, there could be worst places than an undocumented doctor’s clinic to sleep in. When Fenris nodded, Anders disappeared in the back, just as he did before, however, he returned with seemingly more items in his hand than the last time – another pillow, a fuzzier blanket, and something dangling off a lanyard on his wrist. Anders dumped them on the chair nearby chair, but held onto the lanyard.

“So I went through a few days of thinking in the span of a few minutes while I was getting these – I can think fast if I have to, don’t look at me like that – and I can’t blame you for thinking like you have to be suspicious of everything. Considering what you just told me, it would be like getting mad at pounce-a-lot for taking down the Wintersend tree.

“So this time, I’m going to give you something else: a choice. Happy Wintersend.”

He held out the lanyard, finally showing the small key hanging on the end. Fenris stared at it. “I don’t understand what this is Anders.”

“It’s one of the spare keys for the clinic – one of the only three in the world, I might add. The only people who have this is me and Lirene. So know that I’m not offering this lightly. This is a...job offer, I guess? I can’t pay you anything other than food, maybe a bit of the stipend if I beg Lirene enough to spare some of the weekly change. I’m sure I can convert one of the rooms upstairs to another bedroom if you want somewhere to board as well. There’s also a contract to read over, but we can do that together. Probably with someone else if you like. Hawke?”

It was good that Fenris was already sitting on the chair. It gave him a measure of support as the full implication hit him. This was Ander’s life, the home of his hopes and dreams, a sanctuary for those who had no-where else – or those without insurance. The previous gifts did not carry the weight of that disarmingly small key, but Fenris could feel its weight off the lanyard.

“I...would need some time. Maybe. I can’t promise anything now.” Fenris said, relishing the way maybe rolled off his tongue. The choice to say so. The feeling only flared when Anders nodded his head.

“I understand. Well, the waiting room is yours until morning.” Anders disappeared to staircase, his steps echoing in the stairwell, until they too faded away. The chairs were just as uncomfortable as they had been the first time Fenris had slept in them, but as Fenris buried himself deeper in them, his mind became cotton-heavy with the incoming sleep.

The last though Fenris had before he drifted off was the speculation of working in a place like the clinic. He had no skills has a medical professional, but there had to be just as honest work there. Fenris smiled to himself. He would let Anders know his answer in the morning.

#fendersassoc #fenders #fenders dragon age #charwriting #fender modern au #fenris ( dragon age )#anders ( dragon age )#secondary:#the kirwall crew ( dragon age )#im too lazy to tag everyone #dragon age #dovabunny #modern au #i already published this ages ago on ao3 i just wanted to do it here as well

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protect-him · 7 years ago

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Ace!Fenris Fic Teaser: First Kiss

It’s both the first week of No Angst August and @dragonageaspecweek and I wasn’t sure how to participate since my Ace!Fenris is still in the outlining phase, but I decided to write a teaser for it! I was also inspired by @fendersassoc and the First Kiss theme for the first week of No Angst August, so here I’ve written an Ace!Fenris teaser for a Fenders Soulmate AU, and it’s their first kiss!

Fenders under the cut~~

Anders ran a thumb over the letters on Fenris’ wrist as Fenris looked away, embarrassed.

“It really is you,” Anders said in an awed whisper. “You were so dismissive I thought I had to be mistaken. Even though—” He turned his wrist to show Fenris the name there. “I'd never met a Fenris before.”

Fenris pulled his arm away and shuffled his feet in the sand, looking down at the waves gently lapping against his ankles. This was what he had been hoping for, yet what he'd been afraid of even before meeting Anders.

Anders turned to look at the sunset.

“I always dreamed about my soulmate,” Anders said quietly. “Tall, dark, and handsome, maybe a bit reckless. My imagination was never short of scenarios. How we’d meet. Our first kiss.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Fenris said quickly. “I'm not—”

“I'm not saying we should go home and have sex tonight,” Anders said. “We don't even have to kiss. But can you give it a chance?”

“I didn't want a soulmate,” Fenris said. “Everything I've seen in the movies—I don't like it.”

“This isn't a movie,” Anders said. “Real life is better than that. Let me just try to show you.” He turned back to Fenris.

Fenris looked upset. He gripped his wrist as if he could squeeze away the mark. He was biting his lips too. Anders decided to try a different approach.

“What don't you like about the movies?” Anders asked, squatting down to play his hands in the salty water.

Fenris took a deep breath. Then sighed.

“The one thing every movie has.”

“Soulmates?”

“Sex.”

“Oh.”

Fenris sighed again.

“You don't… want sex,” Anders said. It was starting to make sense now. He noticed that Fenris looked unhappy.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” Anders hurried to explain. “It's just the way you are. Nothing's broken.”

“Every movie I've seen would say differently,” Fenris said. “It's what soulmates do, sooner or later.”

“See,” Anders stood up. “This is where real life gets better.” He scrubbed his hands on his shorts to dry them.

“I'm indifferent about sex,” he said bluntly. “And obviously we would talk about everything. I wouldn't do anything you're uncomfortable with.”

Fenris looked sideways at him, a little wary of something that sounded too good to be true. Despite the things that should irritate him about Anders, he liked the man. He was thoughtful and intelligent. Fenris was really just afraid of the day when Anders would ask him for sex.

“If you never want sex,” Anders said, “that's perfectly fine with me.”

“I have heard about your… experience in sex,” Fenris said dubiously.

Anders turned to Fenris and reached for his hand.

“Fenris. I was young. I wanted people to like me and it seemed like what everyone was doing. I didn't love it, and I'm not proud of it. Isabela might be, but I'm not. It's been at least ten years since then. I'd give it up completely in a heartbeat for you.”

“... for me?”

“Haven't you felt it?”

Fenris felt his heart throbbing in his chest. He could hardly think of anything else. This man respected him, would gladly enter into a relationship free of sex with him. Fenris wanted to try it. So badly.

He nodded, once, blinking. The sun was setting over Anders’ shoulder. Each stray hair was silhouetted against the flaming orange, and Anders’ face was in shadow. But his eyes were bright. Liquid gold beckoned Fenris to trust him.

Fenris’ own eyes were partially closed against the sun, but the green was no less bright. Anders reached up with his other hand to brush back a strand of white hair that had escaped from Fenris’ hair tie.

“What do you want from me?” Fenris wasn't accusing, just confused and afraid. He searched Anders’ face for any sign that he would betray him.

“Nothing,” Anders said. “All I ask is a little trust to begin with. I don't want to be the man that hurt you. I won't demand anything you don't want to give me.”

Fenris reached up, searching for Anders’ hand. He grabbed it and pulled it down. They were linked by both hands and eyes now, the ocean nuzzling their ankles. They were an island on the lonely beach. Anders’ shoes and Fenris’ surfboard sat abandoned in the sand. The moment stretched into several minutes of comfortable silence. They searched each other, their hands resting between them. The sun went down and the water started to feel cold.

Anders broke the quiet with a subdued chuckle.

“Do you like this?”

Fenris looked puzzled. “Like what?”

“Holding hands together. Is this good?”

Fenris nodded and adjusted his grip so that he held Anders’ hands more firmly.

“I would like to try,” Fenris said, glancing away towards the horizon.

“We can go as slow as you need,” Anders said. “So holding hands?”

“I like this,” Fenris said.

“What else would you like? I don’t want to cross any li—”

“I’d like to kiss you.”

“Okay, so kissing is—” Anders’ eyes widened as Fenris pressed up and kissed him. Fenris’s toes sank into the sand and Anders had to shuffle one foot to keep from losing his balance, but then he closed his eyes and leaned into it. The kiss was too short, but Anders opened his eyes when Fenris pulled away.

“Okay?” He asked, slightly breathless.

Fenris smiled, a flash of brilliant white teeth. “Yes.”

Anders slipped one hand out of Fenris’ and rested it on his waist, at the same time lifting his other hand into a formal dancing pose.

“How about this?” He asked. “Do you dance?”

Fenris looked a bit unsure. “Not well, but…” Fenris put his hand on Anders’ shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

Anders began to dance, carefully, since they were standing in six inches of moving water and on soft sand. Fenris followed him, quickly catching Anders’ rhythm.

“You’re good,” Anders said.

“You’re the one leading,” Fenris said, smirking. Anders turned and now he was facing the fading light of the sunset. He swept Fenris towards him and away, gaining confidence. He led Fenris into a turn. The water sloshed softly as Fenris spun and Anders reached to catch his waist again.

As he stepped closer to Fenris, his foot twisted unexpectedly on the sand and he fell, turning to land solidly on his backside in the water. Fenris jumped back quickly enough that he didn’t fall, though he did laugh and offer his hand to help Anders up.

Anders’ mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, and then he scrambled to grab Fenris’ hand and stand.

“The water is cold!” He complained.

“It’s getting dark,” Fenris pointed out. “We should probably be leaving now anyway.” Anders was still holding Fenris’ hand. He gently pulled Fenris towards the beach.

“Can I come up and make you dinner?” He asked.

“You want to use my shower, don’t you?”

“Mine’s broken again. Fair trade?”

“This time let’s not try to set the toaster on fire,” Fenris said, bending to pick up his surfboard with his free arm.

“It’s a good thing I live in the same apartment complex,” Anders said. “My toaster isn’t eight hundred years old like yours.”

“It works fine for me,” Fenris said as Anders picked up his shoes.

“And how many times have you used it?”

“Enough,” Fenris said, smiling again.

“I won’t make toast tonight,” Anders said, then stopped and waited until the tug on Fenris’ arm prompted him to stop and turn to look at Anders as well.

“This isn’t a date,” Anders said. “I want to make sure you know that.”

Fenris cocked his head, as if asking why Anders was so concerned about it.

“This is just us being together,” Anders said, “as friends. Just like we’ve been doing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were friends before,” Fenris teased gently.

“I considered you a friend,” Anders said, “but that’s beside the point. What I wanted to say was: will you go on a date with me tomorrow night? I want to take you out and treat you like you deserve to be treated.”

Fenris blinked, his mouth opening slightly. In the fading light, the blush was only barely visible.

“I was going to keep the destination a surprise,” Anders continued, “but if you aren’t comfortable with that, I’ll tell you.”

“No need,” Fenris said, tugging on Anders’ arm to pull him closer. He stepped closer to Anders, rising up a little on his toes until their noses were almost touching. “I accept your offer,” he said softly. “I will go on a date with you.”

Anders blinked, mesmerized by the light in the green eyes only inches from his face.

“Fenris…”

“I trust you.”

Fenris rose up on his toes the rest of the way, kissing Anders again, using their linked hands to steady himself. Their kiss was still short, but left both of them feeling tingly and warm. Anders was proud and so happy that Fenris had not only listened to him after so often complaining about soulmates, but had even agreed to try being with Anders. Fenris was still afraid, but he’d known Anders for some time, and Anders had never done anything to make Fenris mistrust him. Sure, he was ridiculous, had too many cats in his apartment, and would knock on Fenris’ door every other night to use something, but he was kind and respectful. Fenris would trust him. He wanted to see what this was like. Perhaps even people like him, who thought that they would never be accepted in a world of sexual desire, could find love too. Maybe he wasn’t so broken after all.

#fenders #my writing #fendersassoc #dragonageaspec #fanfiction #ace fenris #ace!fenris #sunset scene #TWO KiSSES #HOLDING HANDS

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dovabunny · 7 years ago

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Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Relationship: Anders/Fenris

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Tags: Fairy-tale Au, Fenders, Anders, Fenris, Leto, Canon Thedas, one-shot

A Fenders Friday story for No Angst August. First week's theme: The First Kiss. Check out @fendersassoc for more Fenders!

#fairy-tale au #set in canon Thedas #Fenders Friday #No Angst August #Dragon age fan fction #da2 #Fenris #Anders #Leto #shattered #fendersassoc

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typhonserpent · 6 years ago

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Dancing In The Moonlight

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Rating: General Genre: Romance Pairing: Fenris/Anders Summary: Cinderella AU. Anders, a poor apostate farmboy living under the tyrannical thumb of his templar stepmother, has his shoe snatched by a passing eagle. The eagle carries the sandal far north, and drops it in front of a rebellious Tevinter prince. Thus begins a journey of romance, betrayal, adventure, and true love.

Notes: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @goatbazaarofdragons I WAS YOUR WINTERSEND SECRET SANTA!!! I’ve been sitting on this puppy for nearly a month hoping it would meet your expectations! I hope I did a good job!

This was for the wintersend event hosted by @fendersassoc

My Writing Tag ✦ Ao3 Link - Please leave me a comment!

Cullen and Alistair were sparring outside the manor when Meredith screeched, “It’s BURNT! You can’t eat it if it’s burnt. Get it out of my sight! Feed it to the pigs you worthless cur!”

They both froze, Alistair’s shield up and Cullen’s wooden sword raised to strike. Both glanced back to the manor to see Anders stumbling out through the kitchen door, a loaf of bread cradled under one arm. Meredith appeared a few seconds later, leaning out the door frame to shout, “Alistair! Come here!”

The pair lowered their training weapons, Alistair left his sword and shield leaned up against the manor wall and headed her way without a word. Anders was already wading through the muck to get to the pig’s pen.

Anders tore off a chunk of bread and tossed it into the feeding trough, summoning a round pink hog from where he had been napping in the sun. Its curly tail wagged as it scarfed down its treat, then looked up expectantly while Anders tore off a second piece.

Coming up behind him, Cullen said, “It doesn’t look burnt to me.”

Anders jumped, swiveling around to meet his step brother. Cullen cocked an eyebrow, then nodded at the loaf in his hand.

“It … she insisted she could smell the burning. I told it was because cake batter had boiled over and the oven was still burning it off but … well you know how she is.”

The smile quickly faded from Cullens’ face. “Yes … unfortunately.”

Anders tore off another chunk of bread and threw it into the trough. The sun shined down on both of them, lighting their blonde manes ablaze and making even Cullen’s dented and mud-caked practice armor glimmer. An eagle screeched overhead, and Cullen covered his eyes to get a look at it.

“Shit.” Cullen whispered.

“Oh no!” Anders dropped the remains of the loaf of bread into the mud, “Is Pounce indoors?”

“You look for Pounce, I’ll check on the chickens.”

They split in opposite directions. Cullen’s boots made loud splats in the muck. Anders took two steps with mud squelching between his toes before he looked down and realized his left foot was bare. Another screech had his eyes on the sky. The eagle was swooping, a blue glint in its eye. It was all he could do to duck, covering his head. In an instant, the eagle sank it’s claws into the mud, and then surged back into the sky with Anders’ sandal in grasped in it’s talons.

He stared back at the bird, jaw agape as he could swear the eagle was looking back at him with glowing blue eyes.

Cullen was already running. “Anders! Are you alright?” He asked as he came to a halt.

“Was that bird possessed?”

“What?”

“I thought I saw ...” He trailed off. It hardly mattered. Demon or not, it had still made off with his sandal and not any of the farm animals. He looked down at his bare foot and sighed, “Rotten bird. These were my last shoes that didn’t have holes in them.”

Cullen half-laughed, half-sighed, and wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead, “Tell you what, I’m going into town next week to apply for a guard position. While I’m there, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes.”

Anders ran his fingers through his hair and gathered it into a ponytail. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. If she found out-”

“If Mother asks,” Cullen interrupted, “I’ll tell her I bought them for myself and they were the wrong size.”

The words turned Anders’ blush into a smile. “You’re a good brother, Cullen. Thank you.”

x – X – x

Blood splattered across the sand.

Fenris had to admit to having a bit of a sick fascination with executions, but when he was forced to watch them it was another matter. He was lounging in a comfy chair under a canopy, legs sprawled, head resting in his hand, and wishing he were somewhere other than in the hot sun.

The guard kicked the body, and it rolled off of the executioner’s stage. Unfurling his scroll, he shouted out the next name, and a dwarf was ushered towards the block.

Fenris held up his hand. A halt signal. And at once armor clattered as the guards around him rushed to carry out the order. The dwarf was laid with his neck against the block, and Fenris stood, making his way to the stairs which led to the stage. The executioner had only just placed his foot on the dwarf’s back when one of Fenris’ guards came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

Fenris stepped onto the stage, and held out his hand. “Give me the axe.”

The executioner made a confused grunt. “Y-your highness?”

Fenris yanked the axe out of his hands and pushed his chest to usher him aside. “If Danarius is going to force me to perform his duties I will at least practice my aim while I do so.”

Fenris rose the axe, all the while thinking how angry his father’s adviser would be when he arrived to dinner with his velvet clothes splattered in blood.

Then, a sandal dropped onto the dwarf’s back.

An eagle screeched, and six or so arrows were knocked onto bows. It took Fenris a second to actually tear his eyes away from the sandal, and look up to spy the eagle. A glint of blue shone in its eye as it made a sharp turn, and grew smaller by the second while it fled the scene.

Dumbstruck, he turned back to the sandal on the dwarf’s back, and stared.

“Sire, are you alright?” One of the guards ran forward, and stopped in his tracks when Fenris held up his hand again.

Leaning the axe upright, he knelt, and brought himself down to face the prisoner, “You, dwarf. What is your name?”

The dwarf turned, revealing a crooked nose that suggested he had at some point been punched in the face, “Varric Tethras, your highness. To what do I owe the honor?”

“What charges have brought you here?”

Varric wheezed a laugh, “That’s a story for the ages. How much time do you have?”

Fenris cocked an eyebrow, and waited. After three seconds, Varric took the hint and continued, “Look, you piss off the wrong people while gambling and they wind up thirsty for blood. Nobles pull strings. You know how it is.”

“Yes ...” Fenris hummed.

After another two second of silence, he stood, and thrust the axe back into the executioners hands. “Untie the dwarf and escort him to my office.”

“Y-yes, your highness.” The executioner stammered, and sprang to work.

Fenris picked up the sandal and descended the stairs.

An hour later, Fenris was lounging in his desk chair turning the sandal over in his hands, when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” He called.

In came Varric, cuffed and escorted by two guards.

“Uncuff him and leave us.” Fenris ordered.

Albeit slowly, the guards obeyed, and shut the door behind them.

Fenris had not taken his eyes of the sandal in his hand the entire time. When they were alone, he finally held it up, and looked to Varric. “Do you recognize this sandal?”

Varric chuckled, “Trust me, if I could take credit for what happened out there, I would.”

“The eagle that dropped it … I’m sure I saw a glimmer in it’s eye. Like a spirit.”

Varric whistled, “A magic bird leaving you a shoe. Doesn’t happen every day. You think it means something?”

“It has to. Or at least, that’s what I’m going to tell people.”

“Pardon?” Varric cocked one eyebrow.

“You said you were a gambler, correct? Tell me, how is your acting?”

x – X – x

Anders was scrubbing the floors when Meredith approached him, her feet making an echoing stomp on the newly polished floor.

“Tell me something,” She said, “Why is it Cullen mentioned you were more concerned with your worthless cat than you were about our own livestock?”

Anders sighed, dunked the scrub brush into the bucket of soapy water, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes while he worked. “Cullen was checking on the chickens, and Pounce means a lot to me. He knows that, so-”

“So you let him take care of your duties when he should have been saving his energy for training.”

He took a deep breath. There wasn’t any arguing with her when she got like this. Setting down the scrub brush, he turned so he was facing her on his knees. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. I want that cat out of the house by tomorrow morning or else I’ll tie it up in a sack and throw it in the river.”

He jumped to his feet, heart in his throat. “You can’t be serious. Father loved Ser Pounce. I can’t-”

“Karl is dead.” Meredith snapped, her lips pursed into a thin line, “I didn’t marry a cat. See to it that that animal is gone or he’ll be fish food by this time tomorrow.”

x – X – x

Fenris knew who was at the door before he even heard the knock. “Come in!” He called without looking away from his wardrobe.

Danarius threw open the doors, robes flapping with the force, his face pinched into a scowl. “What’s this I hear about you going on a quest, Fenris? Why are my guards reporting that you freed a prisoner sentenced to the death penalty?”

Opposite Fenris, Varric was lounging in a chair and reading a scroll twice as long as he was tall. He gave Danarius a small wave.

“Your guards?” Fenris asked, raising one eyebrow, “I appear to have missed the portion of my father’s will that granted you ownership of the castle calvary.”

For a brief second, Danarius’ lower eyelid twitched, and Fenris took immense pleasure in watching it happen. Danarius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, obviously I didn’t mean it literally. But as Adviser to the Throne it is one of my duties to command the castle guard.”

“Not for much longer.” Fenris yanked a shirt off of its hanger and swiveled, “I am engaged.”

From the look on Danarius’ face, Fenris may as well have said he was turning into a dragon.

“T-to who!?”

“To the owner of this sandal, of course.” Fenris gestured towards the table Varric was sitting by, where the mud-caked sandal sat in defiant opposition to the silk pillow it had been placed on.

Varric tapped a line of the scroll he’d been reading, “There’s no law saying you have to have met your fiance in order to marry them. Hell some cultures encourage that sort of thing.”

“That is … true.” Danarius crossed his arms, glaring daggers at Varric while Fenris folded his shirt and stuffed it into a bag, “But I … doubt the people will trust a prince who bases his marriage off of a dirty shoe.”

“I will be King by the time they object to it.” Fenris continued, “Nevertheless, should they hear about how we met thanks to the blessing of a sacred eagle, I should think they wouldn’t hesitate to rally behind their new leader.”

“Sacred … eagle?”

Varric hopped off his chair and rolled up the scroll, “The bird that dropped that shoe was spirit-possessed. Ask anyone who was there. A couple meeting because a sacred bird stole a maiden’s shoe and carried it miles away to land in front of her true love? It’s a union blessed by the maker himself!”

“Almost storybook, wouldn’t you agree, Danarius?” Slowly, Fenris turned to meet Danairus’ eyes, “Don’t worry. In a matter of days you’ll be able to retire knowing that the kingdom is finally in the hands of its rightful heir.”

Danarius clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. “It’s … a very beautiful notion. However I am … concerned that you may not find your new spouse in time. Do you really have time to scour the globe before your next birthday?”

“Scouring the globe will not be necessary.” Fenris selected a few more shirts from his wardrobe and draped them over his arm, “I already had my tailor analyze the sandal. From the stitching and position of the straps, he swears it must have been made in the Free Marches. I intend to travel south to Kirkwall and send out word from there.”

“No maiden would turn down the chance to appear before a prince.” Varric added, “He’ll have people lining up for miles in no time.”

“Then ...” Danarius continued, “Please consider it my duty to accompany you on this quest.”

Fenris paused in his packing and gave Danarius a hard stare, “That will not be necessary. I am sure your duties here require far more attention.”

“Nonsense!” He scoffed, “I insist. After all, this is the kingdom’s future we’re talking about. No, I will appoint a member of the magisterium to command in my stead so that I may help you on this Maker-sent quest.”

There wasn’t room for another word. Danarius was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. They remained silent until the sound of his footsteps disappeared.

Varric whistled, “You weren’t kidding about him.”

“Danarius will stop at nothing to take my birthright away from me. If I am not wed by my next birthday, he will convince the Magisterium to allow him to take my place.”

“Nothing like a deadline to light a fire under your ass, huh? What are you going to do if the person who owns that sandal doesn’t want to marry you?”

Fenris hummed while he stuffed his clothes into his bag, “I am hoping it will not come to that. If it does, I hope they will understand my position. As soon as I have been crowned king, they will be free to stay or leave as they please.”

“Well … best of luck, your Highness.”

Fenris gave him a warm smile, “You can call me Fenris, Varric. When this is over I’ll see to it that your crimes are pardoned.”

x– X – x

Two weeks had passed since Meredith’s threat, and Anders had seen to it that Pounce didn’t make an appearance anywhere near the house.

Not that it had been easy.

He was adding the finishing touches to dinner. Sprigs of parsley atop the roast, a splash of cream in Meredith’s tea. He pocketed the cream bottle, then added two sugars.

The tea was delivered to the dining room, in the midst of yet another of Meredith’s lectures. “I just don’t see why you want to waste perfectly good skills with the city guard all things.” She scoffed, not even looking up when Anders set her cup down.

Cullen sighed, “I’m tired of being a Templar, Mother. The lyrium and the constant in-fighting are … exhausting. The guard is a way I can use my abilities while helping people.”

“How is guarding the circle not helping people?”

Anders left the room before Cullen could respond, and with a platter bearing three dishes. He set it in front of Meredith first, then Alistair and Cullen.

“It looks lovely, Anders. Thank you.” Alistair said. Anders managed a baggy-eyed smile in response.

Meredith picked up a fork and prodded at the pile of vegetables. “Are there onions in this? You know I hate onions.”

“No onions.” Anders replied, “Potatoes, celery, peppers, carrots. Garlic and salt for taste.”

Cullen continued even as the plate was set in front of him, “I’m constantly accused of receiving special treatment because you’re my mother. I can’t perform a single duty without someone whispering, ‘oh, he got off easy because the knight-commander is his mother.’ but if I accept hard labor suddenly they’re saying, ‘he must have done something at home to anger mommy’.”

“So ignore them! That’s what I do. Your abilities should speak for themselves.” Meredith replied.

Anders left and returned later with a cake and three plates. “I have to put out the fires in the stove so I’m setting out desert now. If I leave it in the kitchen, it will freeze.”

“Thank you, Anders.” Meredith sneered through clenched teeth, “You are dismissed.”

He couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

He put out the fire in the stove, served his own portion of food on a wood plate (Meredith didn’t permit him to use the silver dishes), tucked a water skin under his shirt, and ducked out through the kitchen door.

Past the pig’s pen and through the cattle field, into the woods and past a series of trees with ribbons tied around them, rested a clearing where Anders still had memories of holding picnics and playing with his father. Now it held only a grave.

They’d buried him under his favorite tree, marked by a gravestone with lovingly carved words.

KARL THEKLA

HUSBAND – FATHER – FRIEND

And behind the grave, in a little alcove at the base of the tree, Anders had set out a bowl of water, a little saucer, and a plate. He’d lined the base of the hole with old blankets, and drove a nail into one wall where he tied a string that led to a homemade harness that wrapped around Ser Pounce’s chest.

He’d tried it without the leash at first, but Pounce had showed up in his room the next night. It was only by pure luck that he’d managed to get the cat back out before Meredith saw. He couldn’t risk that happening again, so here Pounce was. Tied up and no doubt hating Anders for it.

The cat didn’t even look up when he poured cream into the saucer, or filled up his bowl from the water skin, or tore up his portion of the roast into bite-sized chunks and set them on the plate.

“Pounce?” Anders tried, but there was no response. Just the silhouette of the cat curled into a ball inside it’s makeshift shelter.

Anders sat back on his haunches and sighed. His plate was still next to him, a measly serving of roast vegetables that he couldn’t even look at without feeling a pit in his stomach. Why shouldn’t Pounce hate him for this? He didn’t understand that it was for his own good … all he knew was that his master had left him tied up outside with winter fast approaching.

A shadow was being cast by Karl’s tombstone, but that was never where he felt Karl’s presence anyway. When he looked up, he could see a ribbon on one of the branches. Karl had to hold him on his shoulders to tie it up there. The tree had grown with him, and as Anders grew up the ribbon only grew further away.

“What am I supposed to do?” He choked.

He hugged himself, shivering against the cold breeze that swept through the clearing. Holding up shaking hands, he summoned a little fire in his palms. Meredith didn’t permit him to have a staff. This was the most he could do without anything to use as a focus point.

Magic made him feel closer to his father. Even if they had to hide and practice their magic deep in the woods, even if Meredith complained loudly about the indignity of marrying into an apostate family, Anders felt immense joy in casting spells whenever he could. He mended wounds the chickens got from pecking one another and more than once erased the evidence of Cullen and Alistair’s rougher training sessions.

His father used to dance with magic. Oh, how they both loved to dance.

Anders rose, and made his way to the center of the clearing, flame still in hand. Unwrapping his arms from himself, he summoned a flame in the opposite palm.

He danced.

When he moved his arms, it drew shapes in the night air with the fires. His feet stepped to the beat in his head. One-two-three, one-two-three, while his hands drew swirls and waves in the air.

A bush rustled.

He jumped, extinguishing the flames right away. “Pounce?” He whispered, then ran to the far side of the tree. Another fire in his palm had his eyes widening in panic. His worst nightmare come true. The lump he’d mistaken for Pounce’s silhouette was a fold in the blankets. The leash led only to a chewed-through end.

Pounce was gone.

“Maker no.” He breathed, rising to his feet and swiveling towards the tree line.

“Pounce!” He called, summoning a wisp of fire to his palm.

Another shuffle came from the foliage, and Anders darted towards it. “Pounce!”

When he pushed past the bushes, he saw an elf.

The fire in his palm illuminated snowy white hair and dark skin. He was wearing armor unlike any Anders had ever seen, spiked gauntlets and pauldrons custom-cut to fit his body. His arms were bare, revealing swirling tattoos that matched the ones creeping up his neck.

He had an orange tabby in his arms.

“I … apologize.” The elf said, then held out Pounce, “Is this your cat?”

“Pounce!” Anders breathed, extinguishing his spell so he could take the cat. Pounce gave an indignant mrow as he was hugged, “What am I going to do with you?” Letting Pounce settle into a crook in his arms, he nuzzled his fur and stroked his neck.

“I have never seen a leash-trained cat.”

Anders was pulled from his little world by the mystery elf’s words. The elf glanced down at the harness on Pounce’s back.

“Oh, he’s not-” Anders felt his cheeks grow hot, “He doesn’t walk on the leash he’s just … on it. Right now.”

“A bit cold for him, is it not?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine … should be. I hope. He can’t be at home right now, I don’t have … much of a choice.”

The elf tilted his head, summoning to mind the image of a curious bird.

“If … Pounce, was it? If Pounce is in need of a place to stay, I may be able to accommodate. If only for a little while.”

Anders felt a tidal wave over emotions over the span of one second. Relief that this stranger would offer to care for Pounce followed by realization that he didn’t know this person, then fear, suspicion, and guilt.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, we only just met.”

“Well then, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fenris.”

Fenris held out his hand. After shuffling Pounce to be in one arm, Anders accepted his handshake. “Anders. You already know Ser Pounce-a-Lot.”

“Yes. He greeted me during my nighttime stroll and led me to a rather beautiful dance show.”

That made Anders turned a shade of strawberry pink. “Oh you … you saw that?”

“I didn’t mean to spy.”

“It’s not that, I ...” He trailed off. He felt his heart in his throat. Had he seen the magic? Why wasn’t he saying anything about it? Was he biding his time so he could report Anders in the morning? Why not just get it over with now? He’d be thrown in the circle, Meredith would be disgraced, his father’s estate would be sold, and his step brothers would be thrown in the street by this time tomorrow.

“Never have I seen it’s equal.” Fenris continued.

In his panic, Anders had squeezed his eyes shut. When Fenris’ words sank in, he opened them to meet forest green eyes, glistening in the moonlight.

“In Tevinter, magic is a source of power. My father always found it tragic that I was not born a mage. His adviser suggested the use of these.” He removed one of the gauntlets and ran his hand over the tattoos on his arms. They stretched all the way across his hands to the tips of his fingers, “They were the most painful experience of my life. The process burned away my memories. The first thing I remember is being told that my father passed away while I was recovering.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Fenris shrugged, and replaced the gauntlet on his hand. “Apologies. I shouldn’t burden you with my life story. What I wanted to say was … I’ve never seen magic used to create something so beautiful. Would you show me again?”

Anders hadn’t looked away from those eyes, though now he noticed the subtle way in which Fenris’ cheeks had darkened. Was he blushing?

“Well … alright.” He decided aloud.

Going back to the clearing, he set Pounce down next to his dinner. Once he was satisfied that the cat would stay there and eat, he moved to the center of the clearing, and summoned a flame in either hand.

Fenris leaned against a tree, watching Anders’ light dance draw shapes in the night air. Twists and swirls of light, illuminating dust motes so that it looked like the stars had descended to dance with him. Anders could hear the tune in his head. His father’s humming, counting one-two-three one-two-three so his feet would move in time to the rhythm.

He only stopped when his hand was snagged, and the flame extinguished as Fenris pulled him close, their hips flush.

“May I cut in?” Fenris asked.

Fenris dipped him, and Anders let his weight fall onto Fenris’ arms. He realized now, as the muscles in Fenris’ arms bunched to catch him, he must be an accomplished warrior. Fenris took the lead, swinging Anders around and stepping him into a silent waltz. Anders knew the beat even with neither of them saying it. One-two-three, one-two-three. The way Fenris’ armor was built for him allowed for very little space between the two. They could feel one another’s body heat.

Hands on Anders’ hip, Fenris lifted him into the air, and set him back down on his feet. Anders found himself grinning as he was dipped again, fingers interlacing with Fenris’. In one smooth motion, Fenris leaned down and kissed him.

Sighing, Anders gleefully allowed Fenris to capture his lips. Fingers tangled into blonde hair, Anders’ hand cupped Fenris’ cheek. Their lips parted to a hair’s width apart. They could feel one another’s breath.

Then, a dog barked.

It didn’t phase Fenris, but Anders recognized the sound of Alistair’s mabari, followed by shouting. He couldn’t make out words, but the pitch and tone were none other than Meredith’s.

“Oh no.” He breathed, then pushed Fenris off of him, “I have to go!”

Fenris spent a moment dumbstruck, enough time for Anders to push away and start running. As he went, he only barely made out Fenris calling, “Wait, when will I see you again?”

But he couldn’t turn back. He had to keep running. He left Fenris alone in their clearing without another word.

x – X – x

Fenris was laying on his back, with Pounce on his stomach. His eyes drifted in the general direction of the ceiling, but every time he closed them he could see the starry sky that bathed Anders while they had danced. Every so often, he would absentmindedly stroke the cat. Anders cat. The cat with a name as cute as Anders’ little button nose.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He ushered the cat off him, and opened the door to Varric.

During their trip, Danarius had complained loudly about the prison rags Varric was stuck in after his sudden departure from the headman’s block. A representative of the royal family should look the part, after all. Varric seemed to have take the advice, as he stood before Fenris in laced leather pants and matching leather gloves, a red velvet jacket lined with spun gold, and a wool tunic that was just a little too unbuttoned.

“What do you think?” Varric asked, holding his arms out.

Fenris stroked his chin and nodded, “I can see why you managed to rub elbows with nobles.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what kind of people I can rub elbows with, Prince Broody.” Varric winked and nudged his side, “But we’re getting off topic. Adviser Control Freak wanted me to fetch you for the meeting.”

“Best not to let Danarius hear that nickname.” Fenris fetched a cloak off the hook, and then shut the door behind him. He tied it on and tugged the hood up while he walked.

“Trust me, I’ve heard the staff call him worse on a daily basis.”

They both snickered, then quickly fell silent as the left the cabin. Danarius was already in his private carriage at the front, arm resting on the window sill and fingers drumming impatiently. Fenris nodded to him as he passed, then stepped into the carriage behind him. With a mock salute at the adviser, Varric followed suit. Danarius signaled the driver, and the caravan was off.

In their efforts to keep a low profile, they’d rented a cabin in the castle’s shadow where they could easily post as many guards as they wanted. Fenris didn’t see much of a point in it if the entourage was going to announce their presence anyway. Already, common folk walking along the side of the road stopped and gaped at the ornate carriages and warriors on horses which bore saddles in the colors of the Tevinter flag. The city gate opened for them, and villagers stretched their necks out of their windows to catch a look at the procession.

Fenris found himself searching the crowd that was gathering, hoping to catch a head of strawberry blonde hair. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could clearly picture Anders’ face. High cheekbones, whiskey warm eyes, dimples at the edge of his smile. He was sure he could pick him out of the crowd.

“Why your highness, you look positively … glowing.” Varric said, “Something on your mind?”

“I was just looking for someone.”

“Someone special?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I highly doubt you can get a good look at their feet from in here.” Varric said, making Fenris’ ears droop. It suddenly sank in that they were looking for someone specific. Whoever fit the sandal was meant to be his new spouse. Even if he found Anders … what would he say?

He sank back into the carriage, and stayed there until it came to a halt in front of the castle. The driver opened their door to an entourage of guards surrounding a man in green velvet who could only be Kirkwall’s Viscount.

“Prince Fenris of Tevinter!” He shook Fenris’ hand, then turned to Danarius as he stepped out of his carriage, “And you must be Adviser Danarius.”

“I am.” Danarius replied, shaking his hand, “I trust you received our message?”

“I did, but you must be exhausted from your trip. Come inside, we can make arrangements over tea.”

Fenris followed, keeping a close eye on Danarius all the while. A smaller group of guards cut themselves off from the rest of the group and accompanied them, two of them even positioning themselves along the wall while the trio of nobles (and Varric) settled into a sitting room.

“First, I believe introductions are in order.” The Viscount said, “I’m Viscount Marlowe Dumar, this is my captain of the guard, Aveline, and her trainee, Cullen.”

The red-haired guardswoman bowed, and the blonde man behind her scrambled to follow suit.

“A pleasure.” Fenris said, nodding at him, “Has Viscount Dumar told you why we’re here?”

“No, sir.” Aveline replied.

Fenris gestured at Varric, who produced a silk-wrapped package from his jacket pocket. Untying the folds unveiled the sandal, almost as dirty as it was the day he’d found it. Cullen gave a tiny gasp, then stood at attention.

“This sandal was given to me by a spirit-touched eagle. I have taken it as a divine sign that I am to wed whoever it belongs to, even if I have to try it on every foot in the kingdom.”

“Say no more!” The Viscount said, “I’ll send word to the town criers at once. We shall organize a formal ball where you can-”

“That will not be fast enough.”

In complete unison, Danarius and the Viscount gaped at Fenris. “I’m sorry?” Danarius said with a cough.

“A formal meeting would take too much time to organize. Tell the town criers I intend to visit every house myself. If I do not find the sandal’s owner here, I will move on to the next town. I won’t stop until I find them.”

x – X – x

Cullen came home and went directly to the kitchen, where he found Anders doubled over the sink scrubbing out a frying pan.

“Anders!” He called, and Anders turned with a start, revealing a dark half-circle under one eye.

Cullen stopped halfway through the room, covering his mouth.

“Oh, Anders, what did she-”

“It’s fine.” Anders interjected, “My fault. I shouldn’t have snuck out last night. You heard her. That coyote wouldn’t have gotten into the chicken coop if it weren’t for me.”

Anders flinched when Cullen set a hand on his shoulder, head down so that his hair was covering the bruise. “You need to get out of here.” Cullen whispered, “It’s not safe for you.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“It might be. I met with the visiting dignitaries today. Once of them is a prince. He’s looking to make a spouse of whoever fits the sandal he found.”

Anders cocked an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Why not a ring? Seems a bit unromantic to use a sandal.”

“It’s your sandal, Anders. Prince Fenris is looking for you.”

That left Anders’ eyes wide as saucers, blood rushing to redden his face. “Prince Fen-” He covered his mouth.

“Yes, so if you just go to him-”

“NO!” His breathing grew heavy.

“Why? I saw the sandal. It’s the same one that eagle made off with, and Prince Fenris even said an eagle dropped it on him.”

Anders made an incoherent squeak. How was he supposed to explain that he couldn’t meet with the prince because he’d spent last night dancing in the woods while the chickens were being slaughtered? Meredith would kill him. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Yes, Anders, why not?” A sly voice hissed from the doorway.

Cullen swiveled to see Meredith, leaning on the door frame with hard eyes glaring daggers at Anders.

“Tell me, Anders,” She repeated, stepping into the room, “Why can’t you meet with your prince?”

“It …” He struggled to find the words, shaking more and more with each agonizing step she took towards him, “Just wouldn’t be proper. I’m not worthy of a prince.”

She snagged his chin, sharp nails digging into his cheeks, forcing him to look at her.

“You’re lying.”

Without warning, she grabbed his neck and slammed his back against the wall. “Mother! Stop it!” Cullen called. Anders’ hands shot to her fingers. He reached for a spell, only to find his mana rapidly draining under her templar abilities.

“Don’t let him fool you!” She spat at Cullen before turning her attention back to Anders, “I found the tracks leading out to your father’s grave and the boot prints there. How long have you been conspiring against me?”

“I … haven’t.” Anders choked, eyes watering.

“Liar! I don’t know what you and that accursed Tevinter prince are planning but you won’t get away with it!”

Fist in his shirt, she dragged him out of the kitchen before Cullen could react further. Anders could barely hear Cullen calling from the bottom of the stairs as he was dragged up to the second, and then third floor, and then was finally thrown into his bedroom at the top of one of the manor towers. He landed ungracefully against the dresser. A throbbing pain in his back would leave another bruise later. Throwing himself to his feet, he barely made it to the door in time to hear the click of the lock from the outside.

x – X – x

Fenris spent the whole of the trip to the cabin with Danarius seething. Not that he had stopped seething all day, but when their search turned fruitless and night had fallen, he grew disturbingly fidgety. Fenris had never been more grateful for the fact that Danarius insisted on a private carriage.

When Fenris stepped outside, there stood Danarius, arms crossed and foot tapping. Fenris did his best to ignore him and retreated immediately to his room, Varric following not far behind him. He was just hanging his cloak on the hook when Danarius threw the door open.

Fenris steeled his face and stared while Danarius spat, “Just what is the meaning behind embarrassing me in front of the Viscount!?”

“Now, Adviser,” Varric said, “There’s not need to be angry-”

“Silence, dwarf! You should have been worm food by now!” He turned back to the dead panned Fenris and jabbed a finger into his chest, “Refusing a noble’s offer for aid, bending down in front of every commoner’s dirty feet, dragging the royal procession into the most disgusting parts of town. Just what in Andraste’s name do you think we are? Immigrants from a savage tribe of foot-worshipers?”

Fenris had his lips pursed tight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying, “The time it would take to plan and execute a ball would be ultimately wasted. Even if it managed to attract anyone other than nobility, by the time the party would be held, my birthday will have already passed, meaning-”

“Meaning I would assume control of the kingdom, as it should be!”

Fenris turned to retort, and was immediately struck with a mind blast spell that sent him flying backwards until his back hit the wall opposite the door. Dazed from the attack, he didn’t react to Danarius approaching him until the adviser reached into his shirt’s inner pocket and pulled the sandal out.

“A shame you couldn’t find your love before the accident.” Danarius growled, “I’ll be sure to let the viscount know his town criers should spread word of Prince Fenris’ tragic death.” Fenris looked on in terror as he walked away. Varric, also hit by the spell, was on the ground just two meters away. Fenris jumped to his feet as the door was closing, and reached the doorknob in time to hear the click of the lock.

Danarius pocketed the key and made his way to the cabin’s living room, where one of their guards was standing by the entrance. “Our prince wishes to be left alone after today’s failure. Tell your men they have the night off to explore the town, and don’t return until morning.”

Without question, the guard left, Danarius following close behind him. He waited on the porch until the guard had disappeared. A quick fire spell lit the silk covering the sandal like a torch, and he tossed into a leaf pile beside the house, where the dry autumn leaves quickly caught aflame.

With that, Danarius left.

x- X - x

Anders threw his dresser over and kicked it until. Once, twice, and on the third kick with a loud CRACK one of the boards broke off. Picking it up, he whacked the door knob with all his might. Once, twice, thrice, until the board cracked in his hands. Scoffing, he threw it aside, then pounded on the door.

“HEY!” He screamed, then jiggled and yanked the door knob again, “LET ME OUT!”

His pounding slowed as his arms grew tired, fists red and sore, “ALISTAIR! CULLEN!” He cried, slowly slumping against the door until eventually, he sank completely, defeated hands flopping to his sides.

“… anyone?” He choked.

There was an eagle’s screech outside.

Kicking aside a pile of clothes as he went, Anders ran to the window and leaned outside. Barely visible against the stars, he spied the eagle’s shadow high above him. “Hey!” He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “You got me into this mess! Your job is to get me out!”

The eagle passed over the full moon, a perfect silhouette with a tiny glimmer at its feet. As it passed above Anders, he watched the glimmer drop from its talons and rapidly fall. Leaning a little further out, he was just barely able to catch the clear crystal.

“That … was not what I expected.”

He ducked back inside. It was a largely raw, unpolished piece of quartz with a flat bottom where it might have once been been stuck atop a staff. His eyes widened with sudden realization. The primary component of a staff … what helped mages focus … was the crystal. He couldn’t exactly use it for melee like he could a staff, but maybe …

Crystal in one hand and opposite hand flat on the door, he focused his mana, and cast a fireball spell which burned a massive hole in the center of the door. The fireball dissipated against the staircase wall, scorching the stone.

Anders made it two steps out the door before he stopped, turned back into his room, and reached under his bed to grab the lone sandal there. After pocketing it, he ran downstairs.

He passed Meredith’s room first, stopped, and tapped the lock with one finger. A layer of ice gathered starting at the doorknob, eventually freezing around the frame. As he turned to continue down the hall, he was met face-to-face with Alistair. Anders froze, clutching the crystal close to his chest, eyes widened.

Alistair’s eyes darted to the crystal, then the door, then back to Anders.

“Go.” Alistair said, jerking his head to the hallway behind him, “Cullen told me everything. I’ll keep her off your trail.”

If there was time for a thank you, or a hug, or any exchange between them, it wasn’t allowed, as Alistair quickly stepped behind him and pushed him further down the hall. Anders didn’t need any more coaxing, and took off in a sprint.

He was intent on running into town, to the castle, and made it to the edge of the property before he stopped at a familiar sight. Pounce padded out of a thicket and stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes. After a second of staring, the cat turned and padded away, making it a few meters before stopping again and looking over his shoulder at Anders.

Unsure of what was possessing him, he followed Pounce.

x - X - x

Varric was kneeling in front of the door, and cursed under his breath when the lock pick broke in his hands. Fenris was pacing from one end of the room to the other. Varric reached into his pocket and produced a second pick. “He sure doesn’t mess around with locks, does he?” Varric grumbled.

A scent made Fenris pause his pacing. Tilting his head up, he sniffed. “Do you smell smoke?”

Varric sniffed the air. “He wouldn’t ...” Looking down, he discovered tendrils of smoke already creeping up under the door.

“Of course he would!” Fenris balled up his fist and punched the wall, “Fasta vaas … I can phase through the walls, but-”

“Phase through, then. Better than burning to a crisp.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

He made his way to the window and gave it a yank. It was jammed with only a tiny gap, which had been barely enough room for Pounce to squeeze through and escape. It stayed stubbornly stuck. Orange light was cast on the trees outside.

Footsteps outside the door made Varric pause and Fenris turn around. A fist pounded against wood. “Fenris?” Anders’ voice called.

“Anders!” Fenris ran to the door, pressing his palm against it.

“Thank the maker … step away from the door, I’m getting you out.”

Fenris and Varric did as they were told. A black mark formed in the center of the door and quickly spread, burning red in the center. Fenris spent a split second terrified that the fire had reached them until the door burst open and Anders stepped through, his shirt collar tugged up over his mouth. The second the couple laid eyes on each other, they fell into each others arms. Fenris tugged Anders’ shirt away to give him the most passionate, grateful kiss he’d ever had, pulling back only so he could admire the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. Anders wore a huge smile, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Varric cleared his throat, “Uh, boys? Think we can save that for later?”

Anders had carved a tunnel with ice spells, but it was rapidly melting. Crystal clutched tight in his hand, he led the way back out with bursts of frost extinguishing any fire in their way. They stumbled out gasping, none of them stopping until Anders doubled over coughing with his hand braced against the fence. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Anders?” Fenris asked, patting his back.

“I’m fine,” He gasped, “Too much smoke, that’s all.”

A shadow passed in the corner of Fenris’ eye. Danarius came up behind Anders, and Fenris barely shoved him out of the way in time for an ice spike to lodge into his arm. Fenris cried in pain, clutching the arm, while Danarius approached, staff in hand.

“Why. Won’t. You. DIE?” And with the last punctuated word, he cast a cone of ice spikes which spread out from where he stood, stopped inches away from Fenris by a barrier.

Anders stood, hand out, glaring at Danarius as the ice cracked and fell off of the barrier. “I don’t know who you are.” Anders said, “But you stay away from him.”

“Who I am?” Danarius shouted, “I’m the greatest magister who ever lived! I’m the future king of Tevinter!”

“Hey, future king of Tevinter,” Varric called, drawing a dagger, “Catch.” And with that threw the dagger so that it lodged itself in Danarius’ arm. He staggered, giving Anders the opening to cast mind blast and knock the staff out of his weakened grip. While Anders scrambled to take the staff from him, Fenris stood, and approached Danarius. The markings on his arm activated, turning his hand a ghostly transparent blue. In one smooth motion, he thrust it into Danarius’ chest and hoisted the magister into the air.

“You,” He growled as blood bubbled out of Danarius’ mouth, “Are no king.” And with a sickening crunch, Danarius’ heart was crushed in his hand.

Danarius fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Fenris flicked the blood off his hand, and turned to face Anders.

Anders ran up and embraced him. “Oh Fenris,” Anders breathed, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“As I am for you, Anders.” Fenris returned the embrace with a tight squeeze, “How did you find me?”

Huffing laugh, Anders pulled back just enough to look at Fenris, “It was Pounce. He led me here.”

With a mrow to announce himself, Pounce rubbed up against Varric’s leg, and Varric gave the cat a scratch on his neck. “Smart cat.” He mused, “Shame about the sandal, though. So much for your Maker-sent fiance.”

“That’s … actually why I’m here.” Reaching into his pocket, Anders produced a familiar shoe. The second half to the one Danarius stole, “I have the other sandal.”

Fenris stared, green eyes wide, mouth agape. It took three seconds for his mouth to tug upwards, and a few giggles escaped while he ran his hand through his hair. “Maker ...” He breathed.

Anders’ cheeks turned bright red, “W-was it wrong? Cullen told me-”

“No, no!” Fenris set his hand on Anders’, covering the sandal, “It’s perfect. It’s meant to be. It’s just not what I was expecting.”

Fenris closed the gap between them for a quick kiss, and Anders’ eyes fluttered shut to bathe in the moment. When they parted, Fenris brushed a lock of hair behind Anders’ ear.

“Anders, I would be honored if you would marry me.”

Smiling, eyes glazed with tears, Anders choked, “Yes! Absolutely.”

“Hey now,” Varric interrupted, nodding at the sandal between them, “Make it official, Prince Broody.”

Taking the sandal from Anders’ hands, Fenris knelt. Anders lifted up one foot, allowing Fenris to remove his shoe and fit the sandal on in its place. It was the perfect fit. When Fenris stood again, they embraced and kissed.

Their wedding was held the following spring. With the threat of Danarius gone, they had more time to plan a proper ceremony. Anders had sent an invitation to his old home, receiving back a letter of congratulations and the news that Meredith had perished while performing her templar duties. Cullen and Alistair attended the wedding, bringing with them several assurances that they were taking good care of the old estate. The kingdom sang praises of the holy couple, brought together in the holiest of ways. Pounce spent the rest of his life in the lap of luxury, free to wander the halls of Fenris and Anders’ castle.

And they all lived happily ever after.

#typhon writes #long post #wintersend 2018 #fenders #fenris #anders #fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age 2 #au #cinderella au #things i am incapable of doing:#keeping it short #following canon #writing anything that doesn't end in fluff

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