A bitter wind whipped through Vigil's Keep's battlements making Anders' ears burn until he pulled his cloak's hood more tightly around his face. The wind was sharp enough that the torches that usually lit the battlements had all been extinguished, leaving Anders' staff casting the only light save what little reached so high from a bonfire that burned in the courtyard.

He should be inside the keep in the tiny room that Dal had given him now that he no longer rated a guest room with Fenris chained at his side. He could be inside, he could be warm, and he could be asleep with Ser Pounce-a-lot curled up in a warm ball against his chest.

He could be, but when he told Varric any of this story later, how could he tell the dwarf that he got a mighty brood on while comfortable, warm, and cuddling his kitty? No, the biting cold suited much better.

"I had heard that Fereldan winters were cold," a deep voice said behind him, "but is this typical?"

The light at the tip of his staff flared more brightly to betray his surprise before he got it under control, but he recognized the voice. Who wouldn't recognize that dark, touchable voice?

He turned away from contemplating the dark countryside outside the Vigil and faced Fenris.

Fenris had the cloak from Herren clutched tightly around himself, its hood pulled so far forward as to leave his face shadowed. Anders chanced a look down to see that yes, even now the elf was barefoot.

"This isn't winter," he said with forced cheer. "This is just late fall, and if you want a real winter, you have to go to the Anderfels. You can't beat a good Anders winter for freezing off your favorite bits. You ever wonder why the accent's so thick there? Too many tongues frozen off. You don't want to go licking a lamppost there, take my word for it."

He was babbling worse than Merrill.

"Anders."

Anders stopped babbling and waited for Fenris to speak.

"Your name is not Anders?"

That was not what he had been expecting. No, what he had been expecting had been more along the lines of If you ever tell anyone about what happened between us on the ship, I will tear your heart out.

"No," he said slowly. "But it might as well be. No one has called me anything else in so long I'm probably the only one who remembers what it used to be."

Fenris gave him an unreadable look from under his hood. "What is your name?"

Anders shivered when another hard gust of wind cut through his cloak. Fenris edged closer to the stone wall to block more of the wind.

"So, about the cuffs…." he said instead of answering the question.

Fenris shook his wrist free of the cloak to expose the cuff, letting it gleam in the light from Anders' staff. "What of it?"

"I…" Maker this was awkward. "Need you not to touch me when you're all…" He gestured to indicate Fenris from head to toe. "Glowing."

He pulled his hood tighter. Against the wind. Yes. Not to hide his expression.

"When I am glowing," Fenris said slowly, and if the corner of that bastard's mouth was twitching up in a smile, Anders was going let Justice have a go at him, see if that awkward glowing thing still went both ways.

"That is what you meant when we escaped," Fenris went on. "About a 'first go with Livia'?"

"That never happened," Anders said firmly. "I'm just saying. Don't touch me then."

Fenris nodded. "Not touching you has rarely been a problem in the past."

That should not have stung.

"What are you doing up here? You could be back inside where it's warm."

Fenris shrugged one shoulder. "I could not sleep. Why are you up here? You could be inside with your cat."

Anders reflexively smiled at the thought of Ser Pounce-a-lot, then he shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

If he admitted it to himself, he had gotten used to having a warm body against his back, to knowing that there was someone there to wake him when the nightmares got too bad, to the… trust… that if things went pear-shaped, that he would not be in it alone.

He searched Fenris' neutral features and let Justice whisper his promise that no one else would always be there for him the way Justice would. Especially not a mage-hating elf who only "did not hate" him.

"You're right," he said at last when he could glean nothing from Fenris' expression. "I should go back inside, but so should you. Your lips are turning blue."

"You're right," Fenris conceded, his tone almost a perfect match to Anders. "Is there someone I could speak to about a different room?"

"It's late for that. Maybe tomorrow." Anders shifted his staff, ostensibly because he was getting ready to leave, but more to get a clearer look at Fenris' face. "Why do you want a different room?"

Fenris' turned his eyes up to him from under the hood and Anders felt his heart stutter as though fingers had closed around it. The corner of his mouth twitched before he turned to stride away, his answer floating back tattered by the wind. "The bed is too big."

Anders watched him go until his dark cloaked form was nearly swallowed by the night before he called, "Fenris."

Fenris turned back, his expression lost in shadow.

"Theuderic. My name is Theuderic."

~ fin ~