Notes: I own nothing. All hail Bioware.
Random plot bunny attack.
I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you
-Florence + The Machine
When will it stop? Why isn't it stopping? What is keeping them from stopping? How can they keep going, never stopping? Just stop. Please stop. I'll never do it again. I promise. I swear.
"You're going to have try harder than that." Anders chuckled, blood flowing from his cracked lips. He's used to the smell of copper, the smell of his blood that it doesn't even bother him anymore.
No don't. I was just kidding. Take it as a joke. Have a sense of humor.
"Do what the boy says." An anonymous figure said. Could it be Greagoir, another Templar, Irving himself? It doesn't matter. The pain was all the same, no matter who gave the order.
Where's Amell? Were they hurting her too? I'm sorry, Amell…
Snap. Snap. Snap. Crack. A blood curdling scream escaped his mouth, forcing the Templar to stop for a moment. That moment was everything to him. It gave him a moment to think, to pause, to breathe, to sigh in relief. But that moment ended all too suddenly and it began again.
His amber eyes searched for a source of light, something to fixate on while the pain washed over him in waves. He saw a small candlelight, inching farther and farther away from him. He wanted to leap up and catch it, keep the light there with him. But it soon left him alone. Alone with the three Templars. Was the anonymous person a Templar? He still wasn't sure but it doesn't matter now. All that mattered was that despite being surrounded by people who were in control of his life, in control of the whip that slashed at him repeatedly, he was all alone.
The party in Denerim, the dresses festooned in ruffles, delicious food to die for, the full moon and the twinkling stars that accompanied it, the change of seasons evident in the sunset colored leaves that fell at their feet, the heart-shaped pendant he wish he had the courage to steal so he could give it to…
"Do you think he's had enough?" A Templar asked, a small hint of worry in his wavering voice, uncertain of how much punishment they were to give him. The familiar inflection in the Templar's speech, the stutter…the answer was at the tip of his tongue but it slipped away.
"He's been through worse. I say he could endure a few more hours." Another Templar remarked, the nonchalant way he delivered his harsh opinion terrifying him.
"But surely…" The first Templar was cut off by the anonymous man. No, not anonymous. He was definitely a Templar.
"No. A few more hours. Then we're done here." The Templar that tried defending him, at least he think he was trying to, didn't argue. Anders attempted to make out the shapes in front of him. Everything was blurry, his head in a daze. But he could've sworn he saw the Templar that was defending him bow his head, eyes closed as the whip came to bare on him. Anders gritted his teeth and forced himself not to scream this time.
It was dark in this room just as it was dark in his mind. No Fade to escape to, no alternate reality he could submerge himself into, no daydreams to comfort him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't help but stay in this world and wait for some sign from Amell, to know she was alright. But if that sign was a cry for help, a cry he couldn't answer, he wasn't so sure if he wanted to stick around for that.
Instead he took this time to confront his damaged state of emotions. The pent up feelings he kept dormant because of his friendship and the awkwardness that would ensue if he let it slip; it was useless hiding it. He reveled in the small dark space in his head that hid those thoughts, by himself in an ardor that the other didn't know about.
Just him and his rapid heartbeat in the darkness.
Suddenly footsteps approached and the person he wanted to see the most was laid beside him, a sharp intake of breath that was covered with a cough coming from one of the Templars.
"We're done here." The Templar that seemed to be in charge said, another Templar following but one other hesitating for a second before leaving too.
"Amell…" He managed to say, letting the blood trickle down his jaw, ignoring the pounding in his head. She looked unscathed. A relieved sigh escaped him, the barest smile making its way on his face.
"Before we left, I was in the library reading this book. It was about these people, Grey Wardens. They saved people, healed them, and ended Blights by riding in on their Griffons to stop the Archdemon." A twinge of a grin appeared, ideas floating around in her head. Anders liked seeing this side of Amell. Most of the time she was quiet, reading but never sharing what she learned unless she got really excited about the topic. Those small moments when she went on and on about certain subjects and Jowan would try to listen and catch on, he would stand by and pretend to be bored. He occasionally tuned her out when she played teacher but it would be the most he'd ever hear her say in awhile so he would make the effort to listen.
"And?"
"And anyone could become a Grey Warden, a dwarf or an elf. Even a mage." A pause." Do you think we can be Grey Wardens?" He knew the unspoken words that followed her statement. So we can escape from here.
"I don't know…maybe if I'm able to singe the pants off a Templar with a fireball or two, then I say I'm all for the idea." Anders smirked, numerous images that included him creating a stormy inferno that burnt Templars flashing by in his mind. Somehow Amell was in there, sneaking up behind him and questioning his childish antics with a small smile.
"Alright. I'll end the next Blight and you can help save people with your healing spells." Amell knew it would never happen but it couldn't hurt to imagine a better fate than their current ones.
"Sounds like a plan. I'll put it on our 'To Do' list when we get out of here." If we get out of here.
Amell reached for his bruised cut hand, holding it gently. She didn't look at the bloody marks that lined his arms, the black eye he was certain he had, the split lip that oozed with blood, or the black and blue bruises that dotted his chest. She only stared with her intense blue eyes at his amber ones, making sure not to hurt his hand she held.
Just them and their beating hearts in the darkness.