[ Those things are still inside him somewhere deep, buried, sleeping, just as they were before he'd been free. What Anders could not have known from their years in Kirkwall—mostly because he wouldn't have believed—was that Fenris never had any extraordinary love for the Templars. Indeed, he had come from a world where they were ineffectual at best. A bitter victory for Anders, Hawke, and anyone else who ever attempted to convince him otherwise: Fenris understands now that anyone is like unto a magister with sufficient will and might. ]
Do not ask that of me.
[ An answering hoarse whisper, growing thicker with each word. His eyes squeeze shut against the unexpected sweet tickle of breath; it's almost too much. Fenris knows anyone with a lick of sense would twist away from this parody of an embrace, too aware of the danger inherent in offering a bite of bread to a man who is starving to death. He tries. He truly does. He rises on a shaky elbow and manages to slump into position facing the opposite direction, but that's as far as he gets—at this rate he's no less close to Anders than he was before. Closer even, having somehow brought Anders's cruelly gentle hand with him around his waist to find purchase on his other hip instead, their bodies fitted together as easily and naturally as spoons or lovers.
Does he need anything more, he asks. Miserably, Fenris whispers to the dark: ]
no subject
Do not ask that of me.
[ An answering hoarse whisper, growing thicker with each word. His eyes squeeze shut against the unexpected sweet tickle of breath; it's almost too much. Fenris knows anyone with a lick of sense would twist away from this parody of an embrace, too aware of the danger inherent in offering a bite of bread to a man who is starving to death. He tries. He truly does. He rises on a shaky elbow and manages to slump into position facing the opposite direction, but that's as far as he gets—at this rate he's no less close to Anders than he was before. Closer even, having somehow brought Anders's cruelly gentle hand with him around his waist to find purchase on his other hip instead, their bodies fitted together as easily and naturally as spoons or lovers.
Does he need anything more, he asks. Miserably, Fenris whispers to the dark: ]
You are the only thing still keeping me alive.
[ It's as good as a yes. ]