The worst of it is that he doesn’t hate Fenris at all, he reflects the next morning - or at least, he presumes it’s morning. It could be the middle of the night, for all they know. He’s lost all sense of time; he has no idea even of the date any more.
No, he doesn’t hate Fenris, and that’s what makes all of this all the more painful. He’d dreamed of hearing an endearment from Fenris’ lips; maybe if those slavers hadn’t picked right then to interrupt, he might have heard one before it all went to the Void.
Would it have changed what happened after? He suspects not.
He knows he was being unfair. The elf did apologise - not once, but twice, in the space of only a few minutes; and what did Anders do?
He sighs to himself, aware of Hawke’s sudden keen glance as she turns her head to stare at him; but he can’t bring himself to even begin to attempt to explain any of the confused and unhappy thoughts running throu