AN: What is this? I don't even- anyway, this was a request on the Kink Meme, and I thought 'Oh! This tickles my fancy! I need a break from Healer's Embrace anyway!' The OP requested something dealing with Anders feeling lonely (no Hawke romance for him) and their preference was Fenris, or Merrill. Being the *brilliant* person I am...they both somehow ended up in this mess. This was originally going to be Fenders, but...Merrill wanted in. Stubborn girl.

So if any of you are here for the Fenders...um, yeah, sorry. I wish had more than two boxes for characters, because Merrill is in this.

Rated M for Violence (note the capitalization!) and Anders' mouth. Namely, what comes out of it at one point.

Merry Christmas everyone! Have some fanfiction!

Ever since he had merged with Justice, Anders had known his life would never be the same. He had expected the fun times of his life to be over – after all, starting a revolution or encouraging change hardly afforded him time to party and socialize. Justice also enforced a few rules that, up until that point in his life, Anders would have happily told the spirit to go bugger off, and then done what he wanted. He enjoyed gambling, drinking, and buggering, thank you very much, and he didn't see the point of living life without those necessities.

But…he needed Justice. And if he had to give up what he enjoyed, who he was, then so be it.

However, even with a spirit inside him, the mage hadn't expected to ever feel so…lonely.

Even after the long journey to Kirkwall, even after the waves of refugees started pouring in, and yes, even after he had joined Hawke's merry band of misfits…he yearned for more.

Nothing of physical substance; he actually didn't care much for coin, save what it could get him to stock his clinic. He had two robes that were perfectly serviceable, and he lacked the space for more of a wardrobe anyway. He loved books; the smell of the parchment, the color of the ink leaping out at him, dragging him into whatever subject he was reading. Most of his books here were gifts from thankful patients, so they varied on subject, but they were appreciated, each and every one, even the one on potato farming.

He just…missed having a human connection. With anyone, really. After Karl had died…he had retreated, worried that if he came into too much contact with anyone, they would suffer a horrible end as well. But even in his self-secluded exile…he yearned.

Things started becoming too much for him after the Qunari left the city. At least when they had been there, the citizens of Kirkwall were united against them, if only for a short while. Now that they were gone, the pressure on the mages, both inside and outside the Gallows, had increased dramatically. The Mage Underground suffered, through both betrayal and disorganization. Things seemed to be getting worse for everyone in their little group- Hawke's mother had been murdered, by a mage no less, and their leader had retreated further into the Hawke estate. Aveline was busy with her guard duties, only paying him visits when she felt he was overstepping his bounds as an apostate. Isabela only visited to get healed from her various tumbles, and to try to egg him into joining her for drinks, which she knew he wouldn't. Sebastian never visited, always sending a small boy with messages, telling him that the Prince was praying for his soul, and if he wanted to come to confession, he could even ask for Sebastian by name. Anders always used those messages as fuel for his heating fire, usually after offering the messenger boy a small bit of food for his troubles. Merrill was always locked away in her house, as was Fenris, who had managed to become even broodier after he had murdered his master's apprentice.

Even Varric, the one person who seemed to genuinely give a damn, had left Anders to his own devices. Anders couldn't blame him though; he had enough troubles on his plate with his brother to really bother with Anders.

Even with Justice grumbling in the background of his mind, it was too quiet in the clinic when he closed its' doors every night and blew out the lantern. Every touch he made or received was from patients; there was an emotional connection, of sorts, in that he honestly wanted to heal them and they honestly didn't want to die or live the rest of their lives maimed. But the touches were innocent and impersonal.

He missed the easy contact that came with camaraderie, he missed waking up with someone else in bed with him, and Void take him, he just missed everything about human interaction besides snapping and snarling all the time, as that seemed to be all that he was doing nowadays.

What finally pushed him over the edge was so small in comparison to what was going on around him, but it shook him all the same, breaking him down when it shouldn't have.

It was actually a joyous occasion. It was always a joy to help bring new life into the world, especially when both mother and child were happy and healthy.

But watching the new family really slammed it home to Anders; he would never have this. He would never have a brood of children, he would never have a pretty girl for his own, and he would never have the right to shoot lightning at fools. He would never be loved or accepted, and he would die cold and alone, cast off from anything remotely good in this world.

Once the new happy family left, Hawke had barged in and dragged him off with the others for the Bone Pit.

Hours later found him wearily trying to stand as he continued to drain himself by casting protective glyphs and healing magic on the other members of the party.

A High Dragon, a bloody High Dragon.

He ended up on his knees, panting as he drained himself fully as he healed Merrill, the foolish girl having gotten too close to the dragon and getting chomped on for her troubles.

He didn't notice a problem until he felt the fiery rake of claws and teeth on his shoulder. He shouted, rolling with the Dragonling and trying to throw the beast off. It held on, and started to shake him like a doll, ripping even more skin and muscle. He screamed, desperately trying to claw, kick, or punch the bugger off.

The animal went flying off of him with a screech and the sound of snarling electricity, taking a chunk of his shoulder with it. Anders groaned, gritting his teeth as he tried to reach for the lyrium potion on his belt, only to fall still when the pain became too much. Everything that had happened up until that point just- just ceased to make any sense. There was an odd noise in the air, and he realized it was coming from him. He was laughing, he was laughing like a deranged lunatic while the others continued to fight. It was simply so absurd, he thought as he quieted himself. He merely laid there, listening to the sounds of battle and drifting off…

He awoke with a shout of pain as an all too familiar face glared down at him.

"Kindly do not shout in my ear, mage," Fenris hissed. "Especially not when I'm doing you a favor."

Anders didn't bother with a retort, trying to get a sense of things. Fenris was…carrying him, with Merrill hovering nearby, darting in like a swift bird to keep pressure to the cloth covering his wound, all this without touching Fenris despite their swift pace.

She was a very talented mage, he thought dreamily. So talented…

"Thank you Anders, that's very sweet," she cooed.

Damn, he had said that out loud?

"Yes you did, mage, now stop talking," Fenris growled, jostling Anders roughly as he stumbled slightly before regaining his footing.

"But…what happened…?"

"I'll handle this Fenris," Merrill spoke up quickly. The other elf acquiesced with a grunt.

"Well, when you were attacked by that baby dragon, no one was close enough to help, so I zapped it off of you. When we were finished with the mother dragon, Fenris and I volunteered to take you back to your clinic."

"Lyrium…" Anders groaned.

"We're not stopping until we're there," Fenris snarled.

"What he means is that if we stop now, you might bleed out," Merrill translated helpfully. She was always trying to be helpful, Anders thought airily.

"We need to get you stabilized first, and then you can have your lyrium and heal some of the damage yourself."

"But…what about before then?" Anders asked, frowning as both elves' faces slid in and out of focus.

"We've both had to deal with fighting without a healer before," Fenris replied. "We will help you."

"Why?" Anders cried. "Why? You'd all be so happy if you just left me in the dust-"

"The Abomination is speaking nonsense," Fenris quipped.

"Poor dear," Merrill sighed, gently touching Anders' forehead. "He's feverish. Quickly, I know a short cut of sorts."

"I'm not feverish, I'm upset!" Anders wailed. "Why are you two helping me when you obviously hate me? You know what? Nevermind, I rather like this." He laughed a little too loudly, too quickly. "This is the first time anyone has touched me besides trying to gut me in years, and it's with the two people who probably hate me the most. But I'll take what I can get, beggars can't be choosers and all that. At least I'll die a little happy, even if it's a nuisance for you two. I just want some Maker-blessed human contact. I never wanted to free mages. I just wanted to eat well, have a pretty girl on one arm and a strong man on the other, maybe have a few cats and the privilege to shoot lightning at-"

His rambling became muffled when Merrill gently placed a hand over his mouth. Anders made an inquiring noise behind the hand.

"Be still, Anders," she said gently. "You're not making any sense right now…well, less sense than usual, anyway. We will take care of you. Now, sleep."

And surprisingly, he listened to her.

When he awoke again, he first had to figure out where he was, and why Fenris was standing next to him as he lay on his belly on a cot. It took him a moment to realize he was back at the clinic, and Fenris was standing next to him because…well, he wasn't sure why the prickly elf was doing that, but there you have it.

"He's coming round," Fenris called out softly.

Merrill's feet danced into view next to Fenris, and she offered Anders a bright greeting.

"Oh good! You're awake. Fenris and I cleaned you up last night, but let's take a look at your wound."

Still a little disoriented, Anders didn't fight the pair of them as they shifted him around a little, pulling off his bandages. He hissed, but it wasn't as bad as before.

"Has it been cleaned?"

"Thoroughly," Fenris intoned.

Anders drew on his magic, and it was with a happy, pleased sigh of relief that he felt most his shoulder beginning to knit itself back together. There would be marks, of course, but it wasn't like he was out to impress anyone, so it didn't matter.

Actually, it seemed nothing did, anymore.

"I believe this is the part where you say 'thank you for saving my life'," Fenris said.

"Thank you for saving my life," Anders deadpanned.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Fenris," Merrill interjected. "Don't."

Surprisingly, the warrior listened, instead settling to glaring at Anders as he sat up, gingerly stretching his shoulder out.

"You've been acting a little…a little out of sorts lately, Anders," Merrill said gently. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," Anders said shortly.

"Are you sure? We won't judge-"

"I doubt that very much," Anders snapped. "I've said thank you, now leave me be."

"Oh, so all that talk of being lonely was nothing then?" Merrill said sharply, earning a surprised look from Anders. "This is serious Anders, and we're trying to talk to you and help you."

"Why?" he demanded. "Why would you, or him," he added with a snarl at Fenris. "Ever try to really help me? You don't give a damn about me or the mage's cause."

"That isn't entirely true," Fenris rumbled. "I don't give a wit about the mage's cause."

"I know that," Anders snarled. "As you've stated before…multiple…times," he frowned, knowing that he had missed something.

"Anders," Merrill said gently. "We're here for you. Probably not the ones you want," she added with a shrug. "But here we are, if you need us."

"You're joking."

"She's not," Fenris returned sharply. "And she has a request."

"I do? Oh, yes! I do," she nodded. "Anders, I was wondering if you and Fenris would consent to help me with…a project."

"I want nothing to do with it," Anders said immediately. "You'll involve Blood Magic, and it'll all go downhill from there."

"Actually, that's why I wanted you two," she admitted. "I'm…trying to wean myself off of it, and some of the affects are…well, honestly, they're terrifying, and I don't want to be alone while I do this."

Anders stared at her. Merrill, who had been toting the benefits of Blood Magic (if used carefully) since he had met her years ago…was trying to give it up?

"Finally got wise, did you?"

"Yes…and no," she admitted, glancing at Fenris, who huffed.

"She made a promise to me, in exchange for companionship. I would see to it that she upheld her end of the bargain."

"Wait, you're giving up Blood Magic because of him?" Anders gaped.

"Well…yes, and no. I have started having really bad dreams, and the spirits I talk to now are…not very nice anymore. And I've seen what can happen if you slip, even just a little…I don't want that. I mentioned it to Fenris on the off chance he might know something, and he was surprisingly very forth-coming about it."

"Magisters will use whatever means to gain power," Fenris said. "Sadly, there are some who are even more foolish and will give it up just as quickly, usually at their own peril."

"Because of the demons?" Anders asked.

"No. Because of the other politicians," Fenris said with a small smile. "At least in this regard, the witch has an advantage."

"And why do you want my help?" Anders asked warily. This whole situation was…odd. Intriguing, but odd.

"Well, Fenris for all his help is still not a mage," Merrill chirped, ignoring a gruff 'Thank the Maker for that' from the other elf.

"Besides, he's told me stories about people who have…relapsed. It's probably a good idea if we have a healer on hand."

"So you're just using me for my magic then," Anders accused. "If I wasn't a healer, then you wouldn't even be here!"

"Idiot mage," Fenris snarled. "We're not here for just your cursed magic-"

"Why do you even want me in on this little group project if you can't stand magic?" Anders demanded. "Why are you willing to put up with not just one mage, but two? Why an Abomination and a Blood Mage? Why?"

"Because, like you, I am lonely as well."

That shut Anders up. He stared, first from one elf to the other, then back again, uncomprehending for a moment.

"Wait, Serrah Has-Isabela-Trying-To-Guess-His-Undergarments-Color is lonely?"

Fenris shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. "She…is friendly, but not what I really want or need. She wants a carefree tumble in bed. I…do not."

"And you?" he asked Merrill.

The other mage toed at the dirt. "I miss being around my clan. And if I have you two…it would be nice, to belong again."

"Merrill, I'm not an elf," Anders pointed out patiently.

"Oh, I'm aware of that," she nodded, looking back up at him. "But I've always liked you, and Fenris doesn't mind you too much so long as you don't glow back at him, so I thought we could all band together and make our own clan."

Anders snorted. "And go gallivanting about the country-side, doing Dalish things?"

"Well, maybe once in a while? It would mainly be nice just to have someone to come home to and share my free time with."

"Wait a moment, wait a moment," Anders groaned, rubbing his temples. "Let me see if I've got this right. You," he pointed at Merrill. "Want to give up Blood Magic, and went to him," he pointed at Fenris. "For help and knowledge. Fenris then requested that in exchange for giving up the magic, that you become his…his…" he frowned, looking at the warrior. "What exactly are you two to each other? I've been trying to figure that out for a bit now."

Fenris cleared his throat easily. "We are companions, for the moment."

Anders cocked an eyebrow at that, but continued. "Right. So in exchange for giving up Blood Magic, Merrill will become your companion. And now you two want me to join in this merry band as a healer, in exchange for taking care of my loneliness?"

"Exactly!" Merrill exclaimed, eyes bright. "It helps everyone involved!"

Anders weighed his options – or tried to. He really had to force himself not to jump at the chance of actual human (or rather, elf) interaction once more. He could say no, and go about his business and leave Fenris and Merrill to theirs. Nothing would probably change.

Or he could say yes, and work on helping an elf apostate that was living on her own give up Blood Magic, working alongside a brooding, mage hating elf.

Not exactly what he signed up for, but what the hell?

"I'm in."

It was odd, living now with two other people, but Anders for the first time in a long while, was content. Even if it meant Merrill kept wandering over to his bookshelf and perusing the titles without his permission or that Fenris would show up at odd hours, usually reeking of wine.

They would switch between his clinic and Merrill's house. His clinic had enough cots for the three of them, and Merrill's house had enough floor space to make nests of blankets. Fenris' mansion was never brought up, probably because the elf never offered, and Merrill and Anders weren't too keen on the idea of sharing space with corpses. They would all settle in their own cot or nest for the night, with the other two a few feet away.

Everything was going well enough, until one night when Merrill started having a nightmare that she couldn't be awakened from.

"Mage! Mage, the witch!"

Anders awoke groggily, stumbling over to Merrill's now-thrashing nest, and gently untangling the woman. Her eyes were wide, but unseeing, and she continued to thrash about.

"I'm going after her, she's…I hope she's having a nightmare," Anders muttered, laying down next to the witch and pulling her struggling frame against his. He looked up at Fenris, eyes serious. "You know what to do if the worst should happen."

At Fenris' nod, Anders closed his eyes, and fell asleep once more.

He immediately popped up in the Fade, thankfully next to Merrill, and immediately saw what the problem was.

Demons, all over and around poor Merrill, whispering and encouraging her to take their offers, they could make everything better-

"No!" Merrill screamed, hands clamped over her ears. "No, I won't! Please, someone…Anders!"

He banished them with a wave of electricity, sending the demons snarling and howling into the recesses of the Fade. He knelt down next to her, gripping her shoulders.

"Merrill, you didn't accept anything they offered, did you?"

"No," Merrill sniffed. "I knew they were lying, but they…they knew what I wanted, and made such pretty promises…"

"Come," he said gently. "Let's wake up. Fenris is worried."

Wide green eyes stared up at him, watery and red from her tears. "R-really?"

"He woke me up to take care of you," he nodded, idly wiping away the tears on her face. "Let's not give him anymore time to worry."

When they both awoke, they found Fenris pacing beside them, muttering darkly under his breath. He looked down at them, stilling once he noticed they were watching him.

"Is…is she safe?"

"Yes," Anders sighed, untangling himself from a very clingy Merrill and making his way back to his own nest of blankets. "She's safe. Demons at work, but she resisted."

Fenris glanced down at a shaking Merrill, face unreadable. "Good." And with that, he returned to his own make-shift bed.

He didn't mention it, or give Merrill anything to let her know that he had noticed, but when she started to slowly scoot her nest closer to his, he couldn't help but smile into his own sheets.

He had no problem whatsoever when after that little incident, Merrill would, on occasion, bake some goodies for him.

He didn't care what Justice was groaning about in the back of his head- her cakes were utterly delicious. And it did his gruff Grey Warden heart some good to see her smile like that.

Fenris was tougher to deal with. He normally abhorred magic anyway, but it didn't help when he walked in on Anders in one of his 'moods'- or rather, where Justice was in charge and getting things done with the manifesto while Anders took backseat in his own head.

He came back to full awareness with the infuriated elf standing over him, apparently having thrown him to the ground.

"Control that demon, mage," he hissed. "I won't stand for it controlling you."

Justice, surprisingly, backed off.

"I'm sorry," Anders said quietly. "It's just…there's so much to be done, and not enough time to do it. Sometimes it's just easier to sit back and let him take control for a while."

"You are one mage, and only one man," Fenris said, voice gruff but no longer growling. "Even with the aid of that infernal spirit, you can only do so much. It would reflect poorly on me as a-" he made a twisted face, "'clansman', to let you kill yourself when I could have stopped you."

Anders blinked. "Fenris. Do you actually care about what happens to-"

"We should move on," Fenris interrupted. "The witch is waiting for us."

As Anders packed up his things, he couldn't help but muse at the sudden sense of kinsmanship that seemed to have blossomed in Fenris. Perhaps he had actually started listening to Merrill's Dalish stories?

With that in mind, he followed the elf out of the clinic, Justice making curious rumbles in the back of his mind.

It was odd, but now that they were spending a lot of time together, Anders and Fenris had…come to an understanding, of sorts. Anders would never back down on his mage issues, and Fenris would of course never change his mind, but they at least agreed that helping Merrill was a good thing.

It also didn't hurt that both Anders and Merrill had requested a finishing blow from Fenris should they ever lose control.

It was twisted and strange, in its' own way, but seeing the elf look both solemn and proud when he accepted their offer made Anders' heart race.

Anders hated the elf. He hated him with the burning passion of one thousand fiery suns. He hoped-

"Mage," Fenris chided. "I'm waiting."

With a huff of annoyance, Anders tipped over his king, signaling the end of the game.

"You really need to work on your game face," Fenris said, smiling slightly as he started rearranging the chess pieces.

"This is strategy based," Anders grumbled. "Why should my faces make any difference?"

"Because I read them, and make my moves accordingly," Fenris replied.

"Bullocks."

"Indeed. Now," green eyes looked up into his own brown ones, mirth dancing in their depths. "What will be the stakes this time?"

It was strange, but sometimes Anders noticed…things. Not anything in particular, just things that seemed to be happening between Merrill and Fenris, now that they were all…well, not really buddies, but at least good acquaintances.

Fenris didn't seem as prickly as he had been in the past. He didn't seem to mind when Merrill would flit about him and Anders, occasionally brushing against them both. He would come to Anders, sometimes just to play chess. He had even helped out around the clinic a handful of times, much to Anders' delight.

Merrill was…trickier to pin down, because she was such a bright, bubbly personality anyway. But with the two of them with her, she did seem happier, brighter even. Besides a few nightmares, her weaning off Blood Magic seemed to be going smoothly.

"Oh, it's not to say it isn't hard," she told him one morning when she brought him and Fenris some herbs from her garden. "I hate sleeping now. The demons are always waiting. And whenever we go out with Hawke and it starts getting really bad…I haven't tried it again, but the temptation is still there, you know what I mean?"

"Yes, once you give in, it's hard to give it up," Anders said, crushing some of the herbs. "But you have the two of us watching over you, so you'll do fine."

"You will," Fenris declared. "Or…I will not allow you to fall again."

His tone left little to the imagination of what he would do to the little Dalish elf if she went back to her old ways.

And oddly enough, she offered him a smile for that.

He only went to Fenris' mansion once, and it was after Merrill had barged into his clinic unannounced, babbling incoherently about 'Fenris' and 'ill'.

When they arrived, he was shocked to find the elf still in his bed, drenched in sweat and unaware of the world (or the people) around him. When Anders prodded him, the elf muttered something incomprehensible, but didn't move away from the healer's prodding. Not good.

"He's feverish," Merrill said quickly as they bustled around. "I got some broth down him earlier, but it came back up. I tried water, and that didn't stay down either."

"I'll need a bucket full of room temperature water," he muttered. "No, Merrill, come here. I need you to go back to the clinic. Go inside, into the back room. Under my cot is a small wooden chest. Open it, and grab the book detailing the history of tubers. Open it. Inside should be a large brown root. Bring that to me. That should help him a little."

"Right," Merrill said, and dashed off. Bless her, he thought fondly.

He went to work, first checking the elf's temperature, making an unhappy noise at the heat that was rolling off the warrior. With a sigh, he started tugging and pulling off the elf's clothes. "Sorry," he offered the unconscious man. "I won't take advantage of you, I promise."

Fenris, thank the Maker, didn't respond.

Ignoring the tempting (to Justice, only tempting to Justice) lines of lyrium that linked and wound around the sick elf's frame, Anders dropped the clothing on the floor, and set about finding an empty, clean bucket. When he found one, he filled it with water, and brought it upstairs.

Grabbing a rag, he drenched it, squeezed out the excess water, and then gently started sponging the elf.

It was quiet, for the most part, save for an occasional moan from Fenris or the sound of Anders re-wetting the rag. He covered every inch of the elf with the water, paying special attention to his neck, armpits, wrists, groin, and the bottoms of his feet.

He had just pulled a light sheet over Fenris' waist when Merrill came dashing back, root in hand.

"Mind yourself," he warned her as he started preparations for tea. "He's naked under the sheet."

She didn't respond, and when he turned to look, she was staring at the skin the sheet didn't cover.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" she said, ears drooping a little. "That something so beautiful could cause him such agony."

Anders swallowed. "Yes. Yes it is. But he's here," he pointed out. "Alive. That's more than some can say."

"That's true I suppose," the Dalish mused. She looked up at him, normally innocent and carefree eyes hard. "We won't lose him Anders. I won't allow it."

"No Blo-"

"I don't need that," Merrill interrupted, a rather devious smirk on her face. "If he starts getting worse, I'll start nagging him until he gets better. Isabella says it's one of a woman's best weapons."

"I'm afraid to ask what the others are," Anders smiled.

"She said there were two that were even better than that, but I couldn't figure them out," Merrill admitted, not noticing Anders' sudden coughing fit.

They took turns preparing the tea and helping Fenris down it. He had kept it down, and Anders insisted on continuing to provide the elf with liquids. As the night lengthened, they fell into turns, one napping for a few hours while the other tended to Fenris with the sponge and with the tea.

It was near dawn on Anders' watch. He was tired, but the elf's temperature seemed slowly but surely be lowering. Hopefully the fever would break completely soon.

He stared down at the elf's hand, resting on the bed not a foot away. It was twitching, and Anders wondered idly if the elf was dreaming. Without much thought to the consequences, he reached out and held the elf's hand, fingers stroking the inside of Fenris' palm in a soothing motion. It was habit, for the most part, he told himself later. He had held patient's hands before, usually to help calm them. Why shouldn't he do the same for Fenris?

He lost track of time, just watching his fingers go back and forth along the palm of a man who was his rival in thoughts and beliefs, but…not, at least where this companionship issue with Merrill stood.

"Mage?"

Anders looked up at a now-awake Fenris, staring at the tired healer with an adorably confused look on his face.

"Elf."

"Neither one of those works with all three of us," Merrill scoffed from across the room. "More than one mage and more than one elf."

Fenris considered the hand that Anders was, for some Maker unknown reason, still stroking.

"…Healer."

Not Abomination? Well, if he was trying, Anders would give it a go too.

"Warrior," Anders responded with a tight smile.

"Better," Merrill sighed.

He knew something was going on between those two when he walked into Merrill's home one evening after a long day at the clinic, and found an odd sight.

Fenris was in the middle of their pile of blankets, gently rocking a crying Merrill in his arms, low rumbling Tevene coming from his mouth in soothing tones.

Fenris comforting someone was mind blowing enough, but comforting Merrill?

Balls, the only way it would be even stranger was if he had comforted Anders instead.

Anders stilled, taking in the scene. Fenris looked up, catching his look with a stern one of his own, and only uttered a few words.

"If the dwarf hears of this, I know where to find you. Come inside."

Trying not to feel awkward, Anders did so, sitting down next to Fenris and offering a gentle, supportive pat on Merrill's back.

The Dalish sniffed, hugged Fenris tighter, and then let go and promptly hopped into Anders' lap.

He stared, wide-eyed at Fenris as he automatically held onto her, trying desperately to convey in his look that he was sorry, he wasn't trying to steal her, he was being a perfect gentleman-

But Fenris had merely nodded, and curled up in the nest once more, quickly falling asleep and leaving Anders with a lapful of sniffling Dalish.

Damn the Dalish. They were always driving him crazy, one way or another, he thought grumpily.

It was a rare night that had him alone in his clinic, but it seemed that Hawke was keeping Merrill and Fenris out on a late errand. So Ander used his free time to tidy up, toss things out, and more importantly, to bathe. A simple sponge bath was in order; quick, effective, and it didn't waste water.

As he washed, his mind wandered, wondering how the other two were faring. Was Merrill in peril? Or was she dancing among the enemy, a green splash of color amidst a grey or brown world, her shapely legs kicking up and out as she moved, her eyes sparkling with magic and-

Anders stopped what he was doing, frowning, and then shaking his head furiously. He was not having…thoughts about Merrill. He needed to focus on something else.

Fenris, naturally, popped into mind immediately, with his prickly demeanor, dry humor, low rumbling purr of a voice that could melt anyone if he actually tried, and those markings that outlined his musculature perfectly-

"Balls!" he hissed, staring down at his traitorous cock. "Now is not the time for this!"

An uncomfortable Justice made an agreeable squeak in the back of his mind.

For days after, Anders had to fight himself from glancing too long at Merrill's legs or Fenris' markings. Eventually, though, he gave up.

It wasn't like they noticed anyway.

Of course, they couldn't be together all the time. Sadly, this was one of those times. Not that he would ever tell them that, but he was growing to enjoy their company, even Fenris'. The elf still wouldn't change his view on mages, but at least he wasn't as…vicious as Anders had originally thought. Not after seeing him gently cradle a sobbing Merrill in his arms after another nightmare, anyway.

Today was a slow day for Anders. He had only had two patients that day, and they had left once he had healed their scrapes. So he spent his time working on his manifesto, struggling to write down onto parchment what was in his head. Justice was trying to help in the background, but his rumbling was disjointed and random, so Anders tried to ignore him.

"Andraste is credited to have said," he said out loud as he wrote, jerky in some places. "'Magic was made to serve man, never rule over him' when she threw down the Magisters of the Tevinter Imperium. In this, should it not be obvious that being a mage does not automatically mean imprisonment for something we have no control over, something we are given as a gift at birth? How are mages supposed to serve mankind if we are locked away from the world? Indeed, a report from Ulfric the Benign has stated-"

His next word was blotted with ink as the door to his clinic slammed open, and a glowing blue elf stormed in with a bundle in his arms.

"Healer!"

"Fenris," Anders sighed, setting aside his pen. "What can I- Maker, put her on the table, now!"

It was Merrill- poor, unsuspecting Merrill, who looked like she had been a dragon's chew-toy. Perhaps it was a small blessing that she wasn't awake, only responding with a soft moan of pain as the warrior gently set her down on the table.

As Anders washed up, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye- and turning to look, saw the prickly elf gently brush a strand of dark hair from Merrill's face. Looking at the elf himself, Anders felt…conflicted at the worried, yet tender expression on Fenris' face.

He wanted that look for himself. Or to look at her that way without Fenris blowing a fuse. Or…just…anything-

Damn me to the Void, he thought angrily as he hurried back over.

"Hold her down," he commanded, rolling his sleeves up. "This will hurt."

Healing Merrill had drained him, and as he staggered towards the back room, he felt a strong frame catch him, and hold him up.

Anders looked blearily down at Fenris, who was giving him a concerned, yet challenging look, daring him to remark on his deed.

Shame. Anders was too tired for that at the moment.

"Thanks," he grunted instead, letting the elf drag him to his bed. He supposed he should have been grateful for the way the elf was handling him (rather gently, actually) but he was just so damn tired…of everything.

"Rest, healer," Fenris said quietly. "I will watch over you both."

And as Anders hastened to do that, he had one last thought that, at least the two would probably be happy together. He would not stand in their way.

Anders from then on tried to give Merrill and Fenris as much space as possible while still staying a part of the 'clan'. Which was hard, since both elves had started scooting their nests up against his, and it wasn't uncommon to wake up the next morning to find himself the snuggle buddy of one or both elves. He supposed that he was their built-in chastity device, for some arcane Dalish courting ritual…or something.

Waking up to Fenris hugging him tightly was an experience, to be sure. Especially when, to Anders' horror, the elf had woken up, still holding tightly to the healer, had blinked at him, and yawned. No glowing, no brooding, no fist in his chest- nothing, save a roughly rumbled 'good morning'.

He was still in shock. Why was he running around with a heart? Or a lung? Or-

"Anders!"

The healer jerked out of his thoughts, cursing loudly as he avoided a bolt of magic, and sending his own bolt snarling back. The blood mage fell with a cry, and then was still.

Another cry filled the air, and Anders felt dread fill his stomach as he turned to look at his companion.

Fenris was pinned to the ground by the pointy end of the enemy mage's staff, trying to rip it free but failing. The other mage was laughing, and Fenris screamed again as the mage sent a bolt of magic through his staff and into the helpless elf-

With a snarl, Anders bounded over, and against his better judgment, brought his staff down on the other mage's head with a sharp crack. The mage staggered, his staff pulling free from Fenris. Anders didn't even give the other man time to collect his thoughts- he called up his magic, magic that he rarely touched except in a pinch, and focused on crushing the good-for-nothing mage. Snaps and pops signaled bones and ligaments breaking and tearing, and Anders squeezed harder, baring his teeth in enjoyment at the man's gasp and cries of pain, watching his eyes bulge in their sockets-

"Anders! Please, help him!"

Merrill's voice called him back to his surroundings, and without a second thought, he mentally sent the corpse of the former mage flying and made his way over to his friends.

"Hold him up Merrill," he said, already tearing at the snaps and catches of Fenris' armor. The warrior let out a soft whimper, weakly swatting at him, but Merrill caught his hands before they could do any damage.

"Lethallin," she said softly, leaning down and pressing her lips against the other elf's ears. "It's Anders, our Anders. He's trying to help. Lethallin, please, hear me…"

Fenris stilled a little, making a pained noise in the back of his throat, his eyes falling shut.

"It's alright Fenris," Anders said, deciding that maybe talking the elf through everything might help. "I'm just taking this off so I can check the damage."

A curious noise, a half grunt and a whine from Fenris.

"The battle is over," Anders said reassuringly. "It's alright if I take your armor off. And Isabella is busy looting the bodies, so you're safe."

That seemed to satisfy the elf, and he fell still, breathing lightly and rapidly as Anders quickly stripped him and looked over his wound.

He winced at the damage; it was bad enough with just having had the spear embedded in his abdomen, but it appeared that the addition of magic had made things worse.

"Healing potion," he called out. Merrill handed him one from her belt and gently lifted Fenris' head up. Fenris groaned, eyes opening and looking blearily up at Anders.

"Drink up," he coaxed, tilting the opening against Fenris' lips. "Come on, drink up."

The elf obeyed, thankfully, and drained the bottle. He let out a pained hiss as his wound started knitting itself shut. Anders drew on his magic, focusing on good thoughts, and healing, and lightly rested his hands on the elf's wound.

Two hands were suddenly gripping his wrists, and Anders slowly looked up at Fenris' face, freezing at the look of…was that adoration on the warrior's face? No, he decided, turning his attention back to the wound and sending more magic into it. No, Fenris was not giving him the Puppy Eyes.

Finishing up, he looked up at Merrill to say something, and promptly forgot what he wanted to say.

She was definitely giving him the Puppy Eyes. Big, bright, and adoring green eyes stared up at him, shining and happy and so sweet.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

This was not going to end well. Not well at all.

"This is ridiculous," Anders grumbled, pacing back and forth in the back room of his clinic. Fenris was resting on one of the cots, Merrill watching over him while Anders 'took a break'.

More like had a panic attack.

"I don't understand this," he continued, muttering as he went. "It's understandable for…for Merrill to like Fenris, and for Fenris to like Merrill. They seemed to have reached an accord before coming to me. I'm actually happy for them. I am, I really am. But I am so confused!" he moaned, sitting himself down at his desk and burying his face in his hands.

It really made no sense. If they liked each other, why were they both giving him Puppy Eyes instead of each other? Unless he was the go-between? Or maybe he misinterpreted? Yes, that had to be it, he decided. He had been under a lot of stress recently, and then the battle happened, and Fenris had nearly died, and he had drained himself of his mana…yes, he must have been seeing things.

This revelation, however, didn't stop it from stinging when he walked back out and saw Fenris cautiously leaning up to place a chaste kiss on Merrill's cheek.

He spent the rest of the afternoon cloistered away in his room, going through his things and scratching out random statements for his manifesto.

It took a few more days for Fenris to fully recover, and when he did, he started to annoy Anders more than usual- that is, trying to stick around and help when Anders really just wanted to be left alone so he could rot in peace.

"What is troubling you, healer?"

Anders snorted, continuing to mix ingredients for another health potion. "Nothing. I'm just busy, is all. Shouldn't you be somewhere? Preferably either brooding or frolicking with Merrill?"

Fenris didn't respond, and Anders continued his mixing. He needed two more parts elfroot to make this right-

He yelped when Fenris' voice came from right behind him.

"Is this about our Dalish?"

"No, it's nothing," Anders said after a moment. "I don't-"

"Liar," Fenris said quietly, tapping Anders on his shoulder and drawing the mage's attention fully to him.

The elf was staring up at him with…oh no, Anders thought, panicking. It was that same look Fenris had given him on the battlefield, the look of adoration that should not be directed at him. Unable to resist his healer instincts, Anders immediately rested his palm on Fenris' forehead, checking for a temperature.

When Fenris physically leaned into the touch, Anders tried to scramble backwards, only to bump into his work table. "Fenris," he said sternly. "What are you on about? I thought you and Merrill-"

"Yes," Fenris agreed, unrepentant.

Anders stared and then began to get angry. "How dare you!" he hissed, advancing on a surprised Fenris. "How dare you do that to her! She is innocent, anyone can see that! She adores you, and you're trying to…to do whatever it was you were trying to do. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't storm over to Varric and borrow Bianca and use it to nail you to the wall like an animal pelt!"

"She knows," Fenris shrugged.

Anders froze. "She knows what?"

"She knows about my feelings. I was actually trying to talk to you before she shows up again. I would request that our little clan have a serious meeting, and discuss our feelings…openly. To avoid another misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Anders repeated incredulously. "Fenris, you're trying to have us both!"

"As is she," he returned, ignoring the healer's surprised spluttering. "As are you."

Oh. Well, that shut him up.

A few hours later, he, Merrill, and Fenris were all gathered, sitting on cots across from each other. Anders shifted nervously, ignoring Justice's nagging in the back of his head.

This was definitely not a waste of time.

"I think I shall go first," Fenris said, and with a nod from Merrill, continued.

"I've made it no secret that, as a whole, I despise mages and what their powers can do if let uncontrolled. I bear their cruelty, and genius, in my very skin. I have not changed these views. But," he added, looking from one mage to the other. "With you two…I feel…" he frowned, looking away for a moment. "You are…more than mages to me. When we first met, when I learned of your…talents," he amended. "You were labeled as 'mage', and for the most part, that was how I treated you. I was wrong, as I came to learn. And I feel that…that if we watch each other, then we have nothing to worry about in regards to demons."

"Even though I'm technically already possessed?" Anders asked sharply.

Fenris looked back at him, his hard gaze softening just a little. "You seem to be in control well enough. If you slip, I will grant you a death blow." He looked away, and…was the broody elf blushing?

"I will grant you a quick death, but I will stay with you until the very end. You won't be alone in your final moments, if it comes to that."

Anders stared for a long moment before he couldn't restrain himself anymore, threw back his head, and started laughing. It felt good, to laugh like this after so long, but Fenris seemed to be taking it wrong.

"You laugh at my confession?" he hissed. "You-"

"No," Anders choked out, trying to calm himself. "No, not that. It's just…I never thought I'd hear such tender affection in a death threat. Fenris, it's so you," and with that said, he went back to laughing some more.

"Well, he's got a point," he heard Merrill say amicably to a slightly fuming Fenris.

"That did not come out the way I meant it," the warrior mumbled. Anders slowed and finally stopped his laughing, wiping away some moisture from his eyes.

"I'm sorry Fenris, I didn't mean to tease. It's just…all of this," he made a vague motion at the three of them. "I had resigned myself to being alone for the rest of my life. Having a spirit in the back of your head…it's not the same as actual, living, breathing companionship. I wasn't joking that first night, when you both helped me back here. You two were the first to actually touch me in a very long time. And despite what you two feel…I…I enjoy this, whatever this is that we have."

"What do you think we feel?" Merrill asked gently.

Anders looked up, eyes darting guiltily from one elf to the other. "I know you both care about me but…I've noticed you two have…become closer."

He was right, he realized sadly when Merrill's ears flushed red. "Y-yes," she stammered.

Anders shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, couples usually like privacy. I just want to make sure I give you the space you want and need."

Merrill and Fenris glanced at each other, ears twitching on both elves. They turned back to look at him, the warrior stone faced but Merrill smiling brightly.

"Well, we aren't really a couple. I've never done this before, and Fenris…well, I'm sure you didn't expect this, but he's a bit touchy in certain areas."

"No, really?" Anders asked, though he tempered his remark with a wink at Fenris. The corner of the warrior's lip twitched upward- just a little.

Merrill continued.

"We do fancy each other- a lot," she admitted, ears flaring red once more. "But, we also fancy you."

Anders blinked. "You- you both fancy me?"

"So she stated, healer," Fenris droned.

"But-but-but-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves Anders," Merrill said in a chiding tone. "We'll get to buttocks soon, but not right now. I don't think me or Fenris is quite ready for that."

"I-I don't…why?" Anders asked, exasperated.

"Good question, but no singular answer," Merrill replied. "I like you because even though you get angry at me a lot, you are always so willing to give. Time, effort, work, healing, it doesn't matter. Whatever you have, you give with a full heart." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "And it doesn't hurt that you're handsome either I suppose."

Fenris coughed loudly, though from the smirk on the elf's face, it was covering a laugh.

"And what about you, Ser Grumpypants?" Anders asked. "I didn't know you…danced with any partner."

"If you are regarding the gender of my…partner, I never had the chance to think about it," Fenris answered, cautious as always. "As far as I know, I was never given the chance or the privilege of breeding rights, and slaves were not permitted in the orgies."

"Breeding rights?" Merrill asked, voicing Anders own question. "That was a privilege?"

Fenris nodded. "Yes. Only the best were requested for stud, to…to carry on more desirable traits." He offered them both a very feral grin that did not send a thrill down Anders' back, thank you very much!

"I suspect I was too rebellious, and perhaps the markings were off putting as well."

"I don't see how," Merrill said, reaching out and gently tracing the line on the side of his neck. Anders watched, amused, when Fenris' eyes closed at the contact, and he tilted a little closer to her touch. "I think they're eye-catching."

"I think," Anders smirked, leaning over and touch the other side of Fenris' neck- mimicking Merrill's touch. "They are beautiful."

Fenris, bless his black little heart, was looking confused, torn between the affections of two different people.

"And there's nothing wrong with a little spirit, is there?" Merrill continued, fingers lightly tapping out a pattern on Fenris' skin.

Anders leaned down, offering the male elf a feral grin of his own. "I actually think a little spirit is healthy. Fenris," he said, lowering his voice as he tilted his head to whisper into the shell of the elf's ear. "Can you just imagine what a little 'spirit' can bring to the bedroom? Sweet and tender is nice, but sometimes you crave…more."

He had no idea why he was saying this, but from the harsh intake of breath from the warrior, Anders thought, perhaps, that Fenris was enjoying this.

"Gentle is the way to go for the first time, for anyone," Anders continued breathily, his hand coming up and gently resting on Fenris' cheek. "But…sometimes a man just wants a good pounding, you know? He wants to feel it in the morning. He wants to be marked, possessed by his partner for the time they're together. He wants to yell himself hoarse on pleasure as he's hammered into the mattress…or the desk. Or the wall. Or wherever he is being taken. He wants to feel every inch of the cock that is slamming home, stretching him, filling him. Do you want that, Fenris? Do you want to dominate me? Do you want to fuck me, hand in my hair while I cry and beg for more?"

He felt a wicked curl of delight in his belly when the elf let out a low, shaky breath. He pulled away, turning to look Anders square in the face. Pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open in both shock and desire, Fenris seemed to have enjoyed Anders little narrative.

Anders stamped down the urge to preen.

"Anders?" Merrill queried. "Are you…what was it Isabella called it? Are you whispering sweet nothings to Fenris? Can you whisper them to me too? I've never heard sweet nothings before."

Anders sat back, feeling and probably looking, smug. "I was just mentioning the benefits of being spirited in a bedroom setting."

"Bedroom setting- oh. Oh," she giggled. "Maybe you could tell me?"

"We'll see," Anders said.

"Please?" Merrill begged, pouting. "Please whisper sweet nothings to me?"

There's a special place in the Void for me, he thought as he leaned forward, whispering into her ear.

"I was just telling Fenris the wonders of rough sex with another man," he breathed. "But with you, I would worship your body. My tongue would lick every inch of your skin; your lips, your breasts, your stomach…your clitoris. I would drive you insane, and wring the most beautiful and needy sounds from you, all with my tongue. And then…"

"And then?" Merrill repeated, sounding breathless.

"And then," Anders said, nuzzling her ear ever so gently. "And then, my little songbird, I would claim you, anywhere and everywhere, in whatever position you wished. I would make love to you on the bed, your legs wrapped around my waist as I eased in and out of you. I would fuck you in the clinic, with you laying on your stomach and your legs splayed out while I pounded into you from behind, making the desk creak and moan. And I would suck and kiss and fondle you while Fenris took his turn, leaving his own marks on you."

Finished, he pulled back once more, taking stock.

Both elves had very red ears, and very flushed faces. Congratulating himself on a job well done, he stood, stretching languidly.

"Now…who's up for some supper at the Hanged Man?"

"So...you and Merrill, eh?" Isabella asked lightly. They were both at the bar; her normal roost, and him there to pick up drinks.

"You could say that," Anders shrugged.

"Or…is it you and Fenris?"

"You could say that as well."

The pirate actually frowned at him. "Listen, I'm all about sharing the love, Anders, but if you break Kitten's heart-"

"She knows," he sighed. "Actually, it was the two of them who convinced me to join in this madness."

"What are you three doing then?" she asked. "I can't see sweet Kitten getting into anything without actually caring for someone. What is this to you?"

Anders considered for a moment. "A chance at feeling human again with two people I've come to trust and care for."

"And you couldn't resist could you?" she purred. "I knew that stick-in-the-mud didn't have a strong hold over you."

"It would have been hard enough to resist one or the other," he admitted with a smile. "But the two of them, working together? Not a chance."

"Hmm," she said, glancing behind them at the two elves. They were both sitting at the table next to each other, Merrill chatting happily with Varric, while Fenris sat quietly.

You had to look to be sure, but his hand was under the table, holding Merrill's.

"I don't know whether to swoon or gag," Isabella admitted.

After their little heart to heart to heart, their schedule changed little. They would still watch over Merrill as much as possible, and they would still visit the clinic or her home. The only thing that really changed was there was a lot more touching (Anders was very happy with this) and a lot more…awkward questions (Anders tried to take these in stride).

"It'll be messy, won't it? Isabella is always going on about taking baths. It'll hurt too, won't it? Of course it will. Never done it before and you and Fenris aren't….small. Not that I've peeked! It just seems that, with everything in proportion with the rest of your bodies- I'm just going to shut up now, please forget I said anything."

And not all of the questions came from Merrill.

"Can a man who receives actually get off on that alone, no other touching required?" Fenris asked out of the blue one afternoon. They were at Anders' clinic; Fenris storing potions and Anders working on his manifesto.

"Random question, that," Anders muttered, setting aside his quill. "But yes, it's true. If both of them know what they're doing and are comfortable, then yes, it's possible."

Fenris nodded, clawed gauntlets tapping thoughtfully on the bottles.

He had insisted on this, and now he had two scantily clad elves in front of him.

"Well, I must have done something to make the Maker happy if I have you two like this in front of me," Anders joked. "Please, sit."

Both elves did so; Merrill shyly looking at the floor of the clinic and Fenris trying to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"It's just a check to make sure everyone is clean," Anders said quietly, healer mode activated. "Some of us don't have the experience for any sexual diseases, but with everything we get into, I just want to make sure no one has an infection. Alright?"

"I trust you Anders," Merrill said immediately. "If you wanted to see me in my smalls, all you had to do was ask."

Anders stared at her as she blushed red. Merrill…had made a dirty joke?

Fenris was the one who broke first- his barking laughter filling the empty clinic as Merrill squirmed and blushed harder.

His first kiss in years is with Merrill. They were out at the market, her chattering away brightly about the coming winter, and how she wanted to help decorate her home for the holidays, and he was just along for the fresh air and company.

When she turns to him, eyes sparkling and a question on her lips, he just…can't help himself.

It's slow, it's rather chaste…but he enjoys it. Even with the season, she smells of trees and grass, and her mouth is clumsy, but eager to return his gentle overtures.

They walked home together, hand-in-hand.

Fenris was another matter entirely. He didn't mind touching- indeed, Anders actually followed the elf's lead when it came to that- but the first time Anders went to kiss him, the elf actually had a look of panic on his face. Thinking quickly, Anders instead angled the kiss, pecking the warrior on the cheek instead.

The second time went a little better. Fenris was expecting it this time, though he was still stiff and unmoving when Anders' lips connected with his own. The mage made the kiss quick and non-intrusive.

The next time the kiss happened, Fenris initiated it, and Anders was swept along for the ride. He was inexperienced, but eager all the same. He was not gentle, so Anders gave as good as he got- biting, sucking, and a little tentative grinding.

After that kiss, Fenris was eager to accept any kisses sent his way.

When he walked in on the two elves, he didn't know whether to be amused, proud, or shocked…or any combination thereof.

The two elves were secluded in Merrill's room, a sheet thrown haphazardly over the Eluvian. Merrill was perched on Fenris' knee, her attention on the kisses the warrior was giving her lips, her neck, her ears. She let out a soft squeak of surprise when one of his hands gently cupped her breast through her clothing. He paused, voice low and questioning. She shook her head, darting in and giving a quick tug on his ear with her teeth. With a soft groan, he continued his ministrations, hand circling and rubbing the other elf's chest now.

Unsure, Anders began to slowly back out of the room.

"Come inside, healer."

Fenris and Merrill were both looking at him now, totally unashamed of their position- her with her hands on the warrior's chest and his ear in her mouth, and him with her in his lap and his hand on her breast.

"Join us," Merrill called. "We were having a bit of f-fun," she gasped as Fenris continued what he had been doing.

Anders slowly entered the room, setting his staff against the wall. He watched them for a moment, two pairs of green eyes staring back- Merrill, always welcoming and sweet, and Fenris, with all his prickly attitude and eager enthusiasm.

Taking courage, he stepped fully into the room, and shut the door behind him.

Justice had started nagging again, and it was with a heavy heart that Anders retreated back to his clinic, intent on working on the manifesto and contacting his people in the Underground.

Days blended together- he wrote, and wrote, and wrote. He gave shelter to two mage lovers who were making a break for freedom because the girl was pregnant. Both were nervous, but excited at the prospect of starting their new family. The only real marker of time he had was the ebb and flow of patients- they came more during the weekdays, when they were working, and more apt to earn injuries. This happened twice before anything of consequence happened.

He was in his backroom late one night, bent over his manifesto, cursing and snarling. The words just- they just wouldn't come out! It was frustrating, to want to write and to have the will, only to stumble at getting the words out onto paper. The parchment was a mess of ink blots, scribbles, and holes, and Maker damn it, if he could just concentrate-

Anders let out a loud yelp when something wet and hot tickled his ear.

"Easy, my healer," a low voice purred in his ear.

Anders relaxed, letting his magic fizzle and return. "I almost zapped you for that, you crazy elf."

"So I noticed," the elf said. Anders shuddered as the elf licked his ear again, the touch bypassing his brain and going straight to his cock, which swelled happily under any attention nowadays, he thought grumpily.

"I'm sorry Fenris, but I'm busy. I need to finish-"

He broke off when he suddenly found himself pressed to his desk, his chair kicked out from under him, and the heavy weight of Fenris pressing against him and holding him down.

When he felt the elf's hand gently grip the back of his neck, Anders froze.

"You haven't been to see us in two weeks, healer," Fenris rumbled, nipping at the mage's ear and drawing a groan from him. "Why?"

"I've…I've been busy," Anders grunted, starting to twitch and thrash beneath Fenris. "And if you would be so kind-"

"No," Fenris declared. "I won't." With that said, he shifted against Anders, and started to grind against him.

"Is that a dagger in your pocket," Anders gasped. "Or are you happy to see me?"

He let out a yip as teeth bit his nape, quickly soothed by a hot tongue.

Abruptly, Fenris was gone. Confused, Anders looked up to see the elf walking out.

"If you want to find out," the elf called over his shoulder. "You'll come visit us tonight."

Anders was packed and ready in under thirty minutes, ignoring a howling Justice in the background.

"She's been working on that thing again," Fenris muttered.

Anders sighed, shutting the door and shaking himself free of any snow that had followed him inside. He shrugged out of his coat, leaving it by the door as he stepped into Merrill's hovel.

He looked around, appreciative of the simple yet festive arrangements; there were wreathes full of winter berries and pinecones hanging from the walls, with a small fir tree in the corner, decorated with cheap, pretty baubles and trinkets.

"She just needs a distraction," he replied after a moment. He conjured forth a small tin, opening them just enough for Fenris to look inside at the contents. The warrior cocked an eyebrow.

"Will those do the trick?"

"If they don't, I'll dance the Remigold in front of Meredith at the Solstice festival wearing a ruffled dress," Anders declared, shutting the tin and marching to Merrill's room.

She was there, as Fenris said, once again obsessing over the damned mirror. She tended to go back to the project of fixing it when she was stressed, or feeling a little depressed.

Guiltily, Anders shifted his weight before opening the tin can, and quietly blowing the wafting scent towards her.

"And if I take those components and…and…oh my, what is that wonderful smell?" she said, turning and blinking at Anders. "Anders! What is it you've brought in here? It smells wonderful! Is it a Ferelden recipe? Or Anderfellan? It must be from the Anderfells, it smells too sweet for Ferelden."

"Kolache cookies," Anders said, waving the tin beneath her nose, watching her eyes follow the tin. "I'm willing to share…if you leave the room and join me and Fenris."

"But…oh," she paused, looking stricken. "But I'm so close…I'm sure of it this time-"

"Merrill," he said, all serious now. "If you don't follow me out into the main room and leave that dratted thing alone for the evening, I won't use my electricity trick on you. Ever again."

She gave him the most soulful puppy eyes he had ever seen- desperate, and truly torn between her choices. He stood firm, unyielding.

"But I…I…oh, sod it," she cried, throwing her hands up and following him out into the main room where Fenris waited. "I can't get the damn thing to work anyway, and this way I at least get cookies."

"You'll get much more than cookies this evening, my dear," Fenris rumbled, eyes raking over both Anders and Merrill. The Dalish flushed and giggled, and Anders merely took the hungry gaze in proudly, head held high.

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep," Anders scolded with a smile.

"I intend to do many things tonight, with both of you," Fenris replied, hand reaching out and deftly nabbing a cookie. "The first of which is to enjoy these snacks with you."

"Oh, can I have one of the orange ones Anders? Please? Please please please?"

The evening ended with their nests becoming one large pile of blankets and naked limbs. As the snow piled up outside, as darkness truly fell, and as Merrill's fire lit the room and kept them from freezing, Anders curled tighter around his bedmates- his clan mates- truly content for the first time in a long time. Even Justice, normally angry whenever Anders wasn't doing mage-related things, was quiet for the evening.

He fell asleep to the sound of the storm outside, the scent of nature and lyrium in his nostrils, and the touch of people who truly cared for him.

It was more than he could have ever hoped for, and he would die before he saw them harmed.