The plot occurs after the events of DA2.

A modern universe where anyone who had the misfortune to be born a mutant has to be registered and placed into special, isolated facilities where he or she learns to control their abilities and not threaten society. Anyone who objects is thrown into special prisons or just vanishes.

The world is still shaken after the quickly spreading Darkspawn virus was stopped, taking half of the population with it. Everything is chaos and uncertainty. The Chantry Institute is on the rise, its half-religious half-political propaganda is leaking in and its unofficial army of templars is more than just mutant hunters.

Anders and Falcor were spared after they started something they didn't know how to finish, something bigger than their lives. Now they keep running and everything is at stake.

Ferelden,Gwaren, Kleinszen 10:05 am, Wintermarch 2012

They met in the middle of a crowded market street. The Sunday market was almost a social event for the terrified population; people were selling and buying, chaffing, joking and daring to be simply at ease for a moment. But Falcor Redin was far away from feeling calm. He inhaled the air cautiously, searching. The familiar scent of herbs and freshness was barely noticeable amongst so many other smells. He gritted his teeth, clutching at his side when a passer-by's elbow accidently dug into it.

Falcor really hated crowded places.

He spotted the blond bolting out of a truck's back door and waving to the driver. The old, bald man nodded at his passenger and drove down the street.

Falcor simply stood there. He wanted to call out the right name but the pulsating pain on his side and the unwanted proximity of so many disturbing scents and voices made him a bit lightheaded. So he leaned against a nearest solid object he could find; a perfume stall (what a terrible choice) to the clear annoyance of the seller.

The blond turned around, finding him in this mass of people as if he was feeling him. Maybe he was. Looking into the surprised amber eyes Falcor tried a faint smile. Within a moment the blond man pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the greetings he received, and reaching out for him.

Their fingertips touched hesitantly at first and then their fingers laced together, their grip tightening to the point of pain, as proof that it was real; both of them were still alive.

Pressed together by the movement of citizens passing by, the two just shared a moment of mutual relief. "Anders," Falcor breathed out.

The blond mutant's eyes filled with concern at the paleness of his lover. "They got you this time, didn't they?"

The redhead just gave a small nod, whispering urgently. "There were too many of them to take out... it's just a scratch. No need to worry about it. I couldn't lose them this time. They are coming for us." He half-closed his eyes, free hand discreetly landing against the hidden wound. But Anders noticed the involuntary movement. "Scratch, ha? Let's take you to a safer place where I'll be able to examine you."

Unresisting, Falcor allowed himself to be led through the narrow side streets. He'd trusted his lover with his life for more than two years already. Perhaps Anders was the only one he could trust. In a normal condition Falcor would take notice of small things to mark the way around, memorizing the path. But right he couldn't do more than moving his legs. The last few days were harsh on him; between running away from the templar hunters, being wounded and having little time for rest or food, the mutant was exhausted. Even his inhuman stamina wasn't endless.

He was quite relieved when they stopped near a seemingly random door and Anders knocked a rather vivid pattern of encoded message. Shortly the door cracked, open enough for them to slide in.

Falcor blinked. He found himself in a half-dark room, a bedroom and a dining hall and a kitchen, all at once. A startled child looked up at him, smelling of onion and fear. She gave the newcomers a terrified look, relaxing only after she recognized Anders.

"Lena, it's okay. The healer and his friend won't hurt us. Go play with your teddy bear." A soft feminine voice behind his back hurried to calm down the girl. Falcor turned around. The woman was old, hair already gray and many wrinkles marked her pale skin. She nodded at him, hugged Anders and immediately promised them her famous soup.

Anders smiled at her gently, stroking her grey hair, an elegant brow furrowing questioningly as he squinted at the playing girl. The woman sadly shook her head, whispering to the blond. "No, she's still said no word, Healer. Not since…that incident." Falcor's sharp hearing caught the exchange between the two. He squinted at their direction but remained silent. Anders's saddened expression didn't escape his attention either. The healer just softly squeezed woman's shoulder and helped the redhead in.

Two minutes later Falcor was relieved of his heavy, hooded coat and familiar, expert fingers pulled up his sweater and undershirt to inspect the poorly bandaged wound. He was gently pushed to the small bed and obediently lay down. The child climbed off the bed in an instant and rushed to her grandmother's side. It was clear that he scared her. Falcor wasn't surprised. After all, he didn't have Anders's fine features or his charming ways, and scarred tissue instead of an eye wasn't a very pleasant view for sure.

Anders leaned closer as he tried to examine the gunshot wound in the dim light. He could see the jagged edges of skin and flesh and the dried blood all around. There was a fair amount of it on the improvised bandage. "I'll have to pull out the bullet before I'll be able to heal you," he said, quietly hiding the frown.

Falcor nodded weakly. Anders was already rummaging in the healer's bag he always carried on him. "Merissa. I'll need hot water and some clean towels or rugs," he turned his head to the older woman. Instructed by her, Lena ran to the old, crooked closet and brought Anders a few towels while Merissa heated up some water.

Anders gave Falcor a piece of wood and advised him to bite on it. Falcor nodded again. He'd need it. The one eyed mutant howled in pain when the thin, heated tongs made contact with his flesh. Anders was as gentle as possible but the pain was still intense. He bit harder into the piece of wood and tried to remain as quiet as possible and still couldn't prevent the muffled screams. Luckily, the pain was short-lived and he took a shuddering, whimpering breath as he spat out the stick he'd almost bitten in two. Falcor could feel the girl's eyes lingering on him, the smell of fear in the air increasing. He licked his dry lips and concentrated on Anders instead. Anders murmured something soothing in the background. He nimbly yet tenderly healed the bleeding again injury and wiped away the blood. As usual there was no sign left except the new, pink, sensitive skin.

"Stay down. You've lost too much blood." Anders gave him a stern look just when the red haired mutant tried to pull himself up. He knew his lover well. "Doctor's orders," Anders added in a harder tone.

Falcor rolled his eye but didn't find any resistance in him. Instead he just rearranged his clothes. "Thank you. Again."

Anders gave him his special smile, the one he kept only for his lover. It was small and tired but reached his honey eyes. Falcor could never resist it, lips spreading in a similar countering gesture.

"The soup is ready." Merissa chimed in in an over-cheerful tone.

They ate in silence. The girl finally left Merissa's skirts and returned to her previous place, her dirty face curious and still a little fearful as she stared at them.

Falcor managed to finish half of his plate before a well-known siren disturbed the fragile moment of peace. He tensed up. Templar patrol. Anders paled but tried to remain calm. He grabbed Falcor's coat and threw it at his direction. They rushed to dress up and collected their stuff erratically.

Little Lena left her teddy bear on the bed as she occupied Falcor's seat in a practiced move and grabbed the spoon, eating the soup. "Over here." Falcor turned at Merissa's strained voice. The woman pressed somewhere on the side wall where the crooked closet was, he heard a tiny rusty noise activating something and a small opening was revealed. 'Hurry up. The siren's getting closer," she urged them. She hurried to close the secret passage's entrance after them, pushing the closet back and took Anders's place near the table.