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Who: Anders and Fenris
Where: Anders’ room
When: 4/2
Rating: PG-13 sounds about right
Summary: Fenris decides that it’s time he and Anders have a talk.
The Story:

[ Later, he’s going to blame this all on the alcohol. He’s had rather a lot of it recently—today—and he’s feeling apathetic enough about everything that when his thoughts drift toward the abomination, he doesn’t try redirecting them. They haven’t spoken to each other since the conversation across the magical box, but they’re in close enough quarters that sometimes Fenris hears him out in the hallway going to and from his room. For the most part, he tries to ignore the mage’s existence. It’s just better that way.

Today, he ruminates on it. On Anders’ presence and what it means. On his convenient ignore about what he’s done and the strange way all of the people of Thedas act and speak. Fenris isn’t inclined to give Anders the benefit of the doubt over anything, but today, he’s so intoxicated that he suspects he’s feeling charitable.

Getting up from his sprawl across his bed, Fenris leaves both his quarters and his bottle of wine and meanders over to Anders’ door dressed in tunic and trousers. The armor and the gauntlets remain piled up near his greatsword. Despite the quantity of wine he’s imbibed, he doesn’t stagger or sway when he walks. Indeed, he looks rather normal as he stops at the door and sharply raps twice against it. ]

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_{[Most days Anders tries not to worry about who he might see around Wonderland as he goes about his business. He can't live his life in fear--this place is already a burden without adding that concern to the pile. But when he starts to feel off--not sick, exactly, but off, unfocused and overwrought--Anders keeps a low profile. Partly because it seems like a good idea, but mostly because he just doesn't feel like getting involved in the usual dog and pony show. One minute he'd been fine, then the next he'd felt a backlog of frustrated feelings lodge in his throat with all the hard immutability of a stone.

Stress catching up with him, he'd thought initially. Four months in Wonderland without an end in sight would cast a cloud over anyone's mood.

The funk doesn't pass, though. He goes to sleep on edge, wakes up despondent, and when finally someone knocks on his door, he's contemplating being really miserable by asking the closet for booze so he can drink alone. Why not? It's not like anyone would notice. Just in time, the knock saves him from becoming a depressing cliche of a mage. Anders clambers out of his chair, in a similar state of relaxed dress.

When he opens the door and sees who's standing there, however, his happiness at the distraction drains out like a plug being pulled from a bathtub. Damn it, what a time for the elf to want a rematch. He's not even wearing socks, he can't put up with a round of fisticuffs right now.]}

Sorry, I'm not home.

_{[Realizing his mistake, Anders tries to shut the door until only a small gap remains, showing part of his face and one amber eye warily trained on Fenris.]}

Let's fight later.

[ It's difficult to be persuasive about one not being home when one is standing there doing the telling. Fenris eyes Anders critically, almost disapprovingly, as he claims not to be there and then hurries to hide behind the door. As if a door might stop him if he wished to enter.

He doesn't wish to enter. But he does wish to make a point. This is an unfortunate conundrum and for a moment, Fenris just looks balefully at Anders while he sorts himself out. Perhaps he's had a little too much to drink for this conversation. Maybe. ]

I can walk through the door. [ It comes out of his mouth peevishly. Fenris gestures to it with one bare hand. ] It's useless to hide behind it.

[ Which is getting the discussion off on a wrong note, because he's not here to talk about the door. Fenris gives himself a mental shake. ]

Besides, I didn't come to fight. [ He says it matter-of-factly, looking directly at that eye visible between door and doorjam. ] I came to talk to you.

_{[What? What? What's the elf looking at? Is everyone from Thedas contractually obliged to stare at him like this? It's getting annoying. No, it's getting infuriating. Infuriating and wearisome and--

What's Fenris talking about now? Anders' disbelief spikes higher than the comment would reasonably warrant, and he pokes his head around in puzzlement as if checking for a doggy door marked "enter at your leisure, all angry elves with weird tattoos."]}

It's a door. How are you going to walk through it? Break it down? That seems a bit excessive just to get to me.

_{[Especially if Fenris means what he says about wanting to talk, not argue about abominations. (Are those not the same things?)

Anders leans back and turns the puzzled look on the elf, one hand on the door and the other on the door frame.]}

Is this about what we talked about last time? Because I'd like to skip over that.

[ He doesn't answer that first barrage of questions with words. Responding verbally just opens him up to pointless arguments questioning his abilities either end with him walking away or making a demonstration. As he still intends to remain, he cuts right to the demonstration.

The lyrium lights up along his arm, bright but not incandescent, and he plunges his hand into the door, reaching through to the other side up to his elbow and leaving it there for a moment so that Anders can see it. ]

Broadly, yes. [ It's the second question he answers out loud, flexing his ghostly fingers as he does it. ] I wish to know...

[ As he trails off, he withdraws his hand from the door and lets the arm fall at his side. The light faints to nothing, the lyrium going back to normal. He studies Anders' face seriously, his tone solemn without being hostile. ]

Do you truly remember nothing of Kirkwall?

_{[Andraste's knickersweasels! There's an arm. In his door.

Unless it's a cute firefly doing it, the elf's habit of glowing is seriously off-putting. Alarmed, Anders leans away, convinced Fenris is about to punch a hole through the wood right there in front of him, but instead of the crack of splintering wood there's... nothing? Well, that's not entirely true, there's something.

The elf's dusky limb is in two places at once like an optical illusion, and Anders gapes at the flexing fingers, tempted to reach out and touch his wrist to be sure it's real.

Oh, that is just... creepy. Amazing, but creepy.]}

What is that? _{[This seems like the thing they should talk about.]} You'd make a fantastic cat burglar...

_{[It's his first time seeing anything like Fenris' lyrium talents before, which likely stands as a better answer than anything he could say. Anders blinks, having to fight now to focus on what the question even was.]}

Did you think I was lying? No one was more surprised by what you had to say than me. _{[A frown.]} I've never even been to the Free Marches. I can't remember some place I've never been.

Edited 2016-04-03 23:29 (UTC)

[ The mage's surprise seems genuine, which Fenris knows it would not be if he was familiar with him. How often did Anders watch him tear hearts out of slavers and the endless infestation of bandits that plague the Wounded Coast? Fenris has lost count. That he appears not to have any idea what causes his body to phase through solid objects is yet another point of evidence in his story's favor.

Fenris exhales a deep, faintly irritated breath.

Much as he doesn't like the sanctimonious preaching about mage rights and the constant condemnation of the templars, he would almost rather that than this. The constant uncertainty and confusion when dealing with those whose faces he recognizes or who hail from his world is getting tiresome. ]

You have lied before. Many times, in fact, over the years that I knew you. I would not be surprised to find you doing it again. [ He says it evenly, less an accusation and more an observation. ] But I believe you now.

[ As though the strength has gone out of him, he leans heavily against the doorway. ]

You look younger and you act different. Evidence, perhaps, but I wished to be certain.

_{[The elf is calling him a liar? It's Anders' turn to feel as though he's being sanctimoniously preached at. Strangers acting like they know him and clucking their tongues over his behavior has rubbed him raw from day one--he's just usually better at talking himself down from a rash reaction.

With his emotions running rampant, something about the way Fenris says it throws oil over the flames of his temper, a burn of indignation in his veins.]}

I'll take that bit with a grain of salt, if you don't mind. You don't strike me as the most unbiased character witness on the planet.

_{[If he lied, he probably had a good reason.

Anders studies Fenris for a few seconds, annoyance simmering but not quite at the point of boiling over. Slamming the door in his face wouldn't do much good with that phasing trick, huh? By the time he makes his decision, his flare of ill temper is already cooling, he turns and pads back inside with a sigh, leaving the door ajar.]}

Well, I suppose you'd better come in, then. What's next? Are you going to ask me a bunch of skill-testing questions to prove my identity? I don't know what else I can say. We're all from different Thedases.

[ Fenris can't argue that assessment too vehemently. He is biased. Anyone who knew him in Kirkwall knew how much he disliked Anders: on principle and after getting to know him better. He barely blinks now, simply meeting Anders' little flare of temper with bland indifference, much the way he'd deal with it in the past.

But he doesn't immediately move to enter the room either. Even after Anders has moved inside and invited him in, he remains there, hovering in the doorway. ]

Continue to hide behind excuses of ignorance and there can be no discussion. [ To Fenris' credit, there's nothing snide or accusatory about his tone. It's still even, still relatively neutral. Perhaps it is not obvious to one who doesn't know him, but he is trying. ] Learn of your actions, understand the truth of your mistakes, and perhaps you can make different decisions in your future that will not lead to the deaths of thousands in your world.

[ This is very difficult for him to say, but he has seen the sky torn asunder. He has watched red lyrium twist men beyond recognition. He has seen things worse than anything he might have imagined during those halcyon days of Kirkwall. ]

Then you might actually save your mages instead of getting half of them killed and the rest enslaved to Tevinter extremists.

_{[The elf has a knack for knowing the exact thing to say to stab deep under Anders' skin just when his skin is feeling particularly thin. Being handed an ultimatum when Fenris is the one standing outside his door is added insult to injury.

He turns around, frown speaking for his scalded feelings on the matter.]}

It's not an excuse. I've already explained this to that other Warden--what you're asking for is accountability over something I wouldn't in my right mind do. I'm not some warmonger, I don't take people's lives lightly. I don't want to poke the Chantry with a stick, I don't want a war, I don't want any of it.

_{[Anders isn't used to unvarnished honesty flowing out of him without trusting the other person with that side of him, but he can't seem to stop himself. His checks and balances, humor and dissembling, are out to lunch, and what's left is an unchecked rush of conviction.]}

What do you think you can tell me that I don't already know? How I shouldn't become the worst version of myself? You're late to the party--I've been trying to avoid that my entire life already. You're sure what will happen will happen, and maybe I can't ask for different, but you dressing me up in his clothes doesn't do me much good. Where does that leave room for change?

[ Words he never thought to ever hear pass from Anders' bitter lips: I don't take people's lives lightly. I don't want a war. I don't want to poke the Chantry. If nothing else had convinced him that this wasn't the man he knew—and other things have—this would have done it. ]

Refuse to allow Justice to possess you.

[ Fenris isn't accustomed to sugar-coating anything, not his opinions and certainly not the truth. He doesn't start now. ]

The Anders I knew often blamed Justice for how he'd become. He said that after the possession, Justice became Vengeance and he couldn't control it. It's difficult to know what was truth and what was not, but I think perhaps, seeing you like this now, that in that respect he was telling the truth. [ A slight pause, then, slowly; ] I would have preferred knowing you instead of him.

_{[There it is--the heart of it all. Justice. The possession. As if somewhere in the process of considering letting Justice share his body, together they'd done some spring cleaning and thrown out their respective consciences to make room for Justice.

It wasn't supposed to be like that.

Anders can't quite look at Fenris and he looks at a spot on the floor by the elf's feet instead. He doesn't have the defenses for this. The idea of Justice's purpose being corrupted into something perverse flays him, the elf's collected, unequivocal account of things a whip on bare flesh.

Of all the possible heated protests he could make, all the possible arguments to the contrary listed off in the back of his mind, what comes out unbidden in their place is--]}

Justice would hate himself if he knew what he was doing.

_{[He'd been compartmentalizing the implications as best he could, but now Fenris is pulling the restraints free, prying open the lid of the box. Past the incredulity and knee-jerk denial, what's below is a gut-wrenching fear that all this time what they'd been planning to do in the name of good could actually turn Justice into a monstrous shadow of himself, and Anders into the very thing he'd been taught not to become.

His voice doesn't waver, for which he's proud. But by the time the elf wishes Anders and Justice had left well enough alone, he doesn't trust himself with even that much.

The admission hits harder than the rest, for some reason. Maybe because of the bittersweet note of sincerity in it.

The fight drains out of him. Backing further into the room, Anders sits down in the seat he'd vacated and scrubs the heels of his hands over his face, uncaring whether Fenris is still lingering in the doorway or not. Everything just... feels like too much.]}

It wasn't supposed to be that way. We were supposed to help each other, make each other better. I can't do that without him.

_{[The Anders of now is selfish and short-sighted, unequipped to help other mages the way they need to be helped. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. Stay the same person Justice had once heaped scorn on, or take on Justice and become a true blue abomination.

If Fenris had come here to talk him into a corner from which he can't escape from, he's doing a swell job of it.]}

[ Fenris doesn't possess a preponderance of sympathy for anyone, much less for mages and even less for Anders specifically. But with his new acceptance of the fact that this is not the Anders he knew, that this is an entirely different man, he finds himself less inclined to condemn him. And he's seeing true emotion from now.

It's not weeping hysterics—Fenris is thankful for that, he would not know how to deal with it if it were—or shouting or anything inescapable, but it's there in the way he doesn't look at him, it's there in the way that Anders' first thought is for the spirit and how it would feel instead of for himself, and it's there when he sits down, looking older and worn and defeated.

Fenris has seen this position before. The background has changed, there's no smell of ash or fire in the air, but just the same, for a fleeting moment, there's a man in a black coat sitting hunched and drawn on an old crate like the life's gone out of him.

It's an inexplicably disturbing image. ]

Yes you can.

[ His voice is firm without being sharp, confident without being loud. Leaning against the doorway now, half inside the room, Fenris crosses his arms over his chest and looks in at Anders. There's no criticism in his gaze or his expression. Instead, there's a patience he's only tried to show him once. ]

And you can aid each other as individuals. You—The Anders I knew never explained the story of Justice to us. The few times the spirit took control, it did not wish to speak of the past or much of anything at all. But I understand that you are friends, even if I do not understand how such a thing is possible. You can continue to be such without sacrificing who you are.

_{[It's strange, Fenris is one of the last people in Wonderland he'd expect to hear words of encouragement from after the way their first conversation had gone. He lifts his head, looking unsure if he can trust Fenris' words.

Why is someone with every reason to abhor him telling him to live and keep soldiering on? Fenris, and everyone else from these unimaginably horrible timelines, should hate him. He would. As much as Anders abhors being held up against someone else's example, he doesn't know if he could be so forgiving in Fenris' shoes--he'd always been good at holding a grudge when he felt it was deserved. Fan those flames high enough and he could see himself acting on them if pushed to it.

Vengeance. He shivers.]}

That's why you came? To say you believe me?

_{[Anders can hardly believe it himself. Lenience isn't something he's accustomed to or would have expected.]}

[ That this is the most civil conversation they've had in the eight years that Fenris has known the man—one side of him, anyway—doesn't escape him. It makes him wonder what Kirkwall would have been like if they hadn't always been at each other's throats. Could they have been more effective in solving the problems arrayed before them? Might they have managed to put the clues together a little faster and saved Leandra? Could they have swayed Hawke from her bloodthirsty rampage or had she just been broken from the start?

He has no way of knowing and he knows he ought not to dwell on such things. He cannot change his own past, but perhaps, just perhaps, he can't change Anders' future. ]

Yes. [ The Anders he knew has heard this some many times it doesn't bear repeating, but this one has not and he supposes that the explanation might make his actions a bit more understandable. ] I have no cause to like mages. I spent most of my life as a slave to a Tevinter magister. Blood magic, cruelty, and depravity are a magister's stock and trade. I have seen firsthand the pain and suffering magic causes.

[ There's no real emotion in his voice as he speaks of it, no expression save a sort of bland indifference. It's a conscious decision, aided by the quantity of wine he's consumed. He does not wish to get angry now. ]

But I will not judge you by the actions of someone you are not.

_{[The elf had said something to that effect before--something about slavery and magisters--though the cascade of barbed charges involving Kirkwall had pushed it to the bottom of the pile of hard truths Anders had been crushed under. He rubs the wrist of the hand opposite, an aimless ritual to ease nerves that can't be eased, thinking about what it would mean for an elven slave to witness bona fide blood magic and have it followed up by an abomination.

Nothing good.]}

That wasn't the point. When Justice suggested he find a new host, a living body, gaining power to hurt other people wasn't the point at all. It was just going to be a way to get me away from the Wardens and help a few apostates stay under cover.

_{[The intention certainly wasn't to rival the amorality of magisters from children's cautionary tales. The Anders and Justice from Fenris' time don't set the best example for mage kind, do they.

Never, not once, had he ever wanted to be that example. To be the reason people distrust magic and the people who wield it. To be the reason children are taken from their families and kept in smothering isolation to ensure they don't... destroy chantries and ruin lives and be like magisters of old.]}

Why are you telling me all of this?

_{[He has to fill the silence up with words or else the ache in his chest threatens to take over. This confrontation is exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, fearing it'd be nothing but destructive and immensely spiteful for both parties. Now that his fears have been proven wrong, it's just plain... immense.

No weeping hysterics are on the horizon, not at the moment, but there's a pressure he can't name, a prickle at the backs of his eyes he doesn't want to face. Emotion. The one thing he can't outrun or hide from.

For that reason, he envies the elf's reserve.]}

How are you so calm right now? We're talking about tyrannical magisters and war with the Chantry that'll get everyone killed. I've been trying not to think about how history has played out in other times and worlds, but of course then I just think about it more.

_{Maybe Fenris has had time to reach some kind of peace with what's happened to him--and it probably helps that he's not the one accused of sparking a major conflict--but even imagining it still makes Anders want to be sick on Fenris' non-existent shoes.]}

[ The why of his telling Anders these things is easier to explain than how it is he’s doing so without shouting, glowing, or growling out a desire to rip his heart from his chest. And because it’s easier, he decides to lead with it. ]

We cannot know the outcome of our choices for certain until we make them. Not usually. This place with these disparate events and times offers us that chance. If the future I come from might be avoided, I would see it done.

[ That’s the most important part. Preventing the mage-templar war in at least one version of Thedas would be nice, even if it cannot be his own. As for the rest, he shrugs. ]

And I felt you deserved to know.

[ After all, far too much about his life has been kept from him and subsequently lost with Danarius’ death. Fenris sighs then, lifting a hand to rake it back through his hair. How does he even go about explaining how he thinks to Anders? ]

I have had a lot to drink. And when you are a slave, your emotions are not your own. You learn how to… compartmentalize, I suppose. Getting upset now would accomplish nothing.

I didn't... I wouldn't have thought those of you who've lived through it would believe it mattered now.

_{[What he really means is that he hadn't expected them to give him the ultimate gift--the gift of letting him decide his own future and not choose it for him based on theirs. It's a hallmark of Anders' capricious, contrary nature that when he'd thought Wonderland's Thedosians had condemned him to his fate, he would've fought to prove it wasn't true, and now that Fenris has given him his autonomy back, he has doubts that he deserves it.

It's exhausting being him. Especially today when he feels like he's all over the map.

Fenris' confession he's in a mellow alcohol-fuelled stupor sparks a faint laugh behind his hands, which he rubs over his eyes again.]}

So that's your secret. I should have guessed that. I was about to try that myself before you showed up. I'm beginning to think I should've started earlier in the afternoon--it's been one of those days. I thought you were about to be the last nail in the coffin. No pun intended.

_{[He breathes in, makes absolutely sure his voice won't waver, and looks across at the elf standing in his doorway.]}

Thank you. For telling me and for... for, well, the rest. I know it's petty compensation now, but you have my word that if I thought for a second becoming Justice's host would change us for the worst, I wouldn't do it.

[ There had been days when Fenris had thought that it hadn't mattered. For the most part, he still thinks that way. What do other worlds matter to him when his is so terrible? But Anders is a complication he's never really known what to do about. If there is still an opportunity for him not to become an abomination, doesn't he deserve to take it?

They'd known each other once. Fought beside each other. Saved each other's lives despite sniping and snarling at one another. However tangled the wealth of emotions Fenris possesses where Anders is concerned, he does believe he deserves a chance. ]

You are welcome.

[ And now, he knows, he should go. While this odd peace between them lasts, he should not linger to damage it. But something in Fenris craves familiarity and whatever happens, Anders is familiar.

It's not quite a smile that flickers at the corners of Fenris' mouth, but it's also not not quite a smile. ]

I have wine. It's not bad. [ Today is a day of many firsts, it seems. He never thought he would be making an offer like this. ] If you wish to make up for lost time, I can go get it. While drinking alone can be satisfying, a beardless dwarf I know assures me that it's better when it's done in company.

_{[Will wonders never cease? A Thedosian shows up at his door wanting to discuss the course of the future and Anders' forward march into radicalism, and for once it hasn't resulted in him wanting to bash his head in with a brick.

Much.

Oh, he'd still like to hide his head under a pillow like three years old and hiding from the imaginary monsters in his cupboard, that's without question, but it could be worse. He's not certain he could stomach more talk about how Kirkwall is in disarray because of him. Not today.]}

... I wouldn't say no to wine. _{[Or the company, though it surprises him that Fenris thinks there's lost time waiting to be reclaimed.]} I suppose you'd better get in here. The last thing we need is something walking past and overhearing us.

One moment.

[ Fenris withdrawals from the door, crossing quickly over to his own quarters to retrieve the wine. He returns a minute later with three bottles—he drinks quite a lot and he has no idea how much Anders drinks without Justice's influence—and a large lizard plodding along at his side. The lizard heads inside first, tongue flicking out in inquiry, before making for the closest bit of warmth it senses. Fenris follows, shutting the door, and then walking over to stand beside Anders.

It's strange to do this. There's a sense of unreality hanging over Fenris that he can't quite shake. But he does not yet regret the visit. ]

Here. [ He holds out one of the bottles. ] There are more where this comes from.

_{[Fenris disappears and Anders stares at the spot he'd just occupied from his chair, elbows slumping between his knees. Had that actually happened? The elf's visit has the dream-like quality of a hallucination and Anders half wonders if it'd been real

Would he prefer it if were a hallucination? He feels exceptionally, excruciatingly like... he doesn't know how he feels at all.

He's still sitting right where he is when Fenris steps back into view. Fenris and something else. Something scaly on four legs that comes to an ominous stop on his carpet. Eyes riveted on the intruder in uncertain disbelief, Anders gets to his feet.]}

What is that? _{[He looks askance at Fenris. Don't you see this?]} Why is there a giant lizard in my room?

_{[The alcohol goes forgotten about as he resists the urge to curl his toes under him in case it gets any ideas about nibbling on his bare feet.]}

[ Fenris hasn't precisely forgotten about the lizard, exactly, but he's accustomed to it enough that he doesn't find its presence strange. For a moment, he stares at Anders in faint confusion, then at the expanded question, glances down toward his feet.

There the lizard stands, lazily taking a step forward and flicking his tongue out toward Anders' toes, so enticingly there before it. ]

It came from the closet.

[ That might be an ominous statement, given as it is in Fenris' low, gravelly voice. But he shrugs as if it doesn't matter and gestures with the wine bottle for Anders to take it. Wine is infinitely more important than lizards. ]

Carver told me creatures come from within it if you ask. I wished to see what would emerge. This is the result. [ Gently, Fenris prods the lizard in the side with his bare toe. ] Venhedis, go.

[ It looks up at him, swings its head to regard Anders, then wanders off toward another area of the carpet not so near them. ]

_{[It's scenting him. There's a giant lizard in his room and it's getting a taste for his tender mage flesh.]}

I thought I was imagining things or the mansion was doing something funny again. This thing came out of a closet? _{[The question is laced with disbelief.]} You mean yours?

_{[Unthinkingly, he takes the bottle when it's offers to him again, though he keeps his arm outstretched, fingers curled around the neck, like he's considering turning the bottle over and using it on the reptile for a moment.]}

You had the closet... give you a pet lizard.

_{["Reptile enthusiast" isn't the impression he'd gotten from Fenris. Slowly sinking back into his chair, Anders eyes Venhedis as it lumbers off. He and Fenris have reached some manner of tentative understanding--he opts not to risk it by questioning Fenris' choice in four-legged companion.

Finally, his gaze flicks to Fenris. He gestures around the room with his free hand.]}

Make yourself comfortable.

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