It'd been several days since Risa and Nathaniel brought Anders back to Vigil's Keep, and the taciturn archer had given the blonde mage some time to settle in - to get used to the ebb and flow of life at the Vigil all over again, to hear voices familiar and unfamiliar ringing in the corridor, to get used to being part of a larger whole: accepted, wanted, respected.
Anders and he had once been good friends, Nathaniel reflected, approaching the door of Anders' room. Their first meeting had been tense and angry; and it had taken time before they had become comfortable with each other, and the jokes had lost their hard, nasty edges and been simply a way to reaffirm: yes, we're still alive. Yes, we are brothers in arms. Yes, we can still laugh. Yes, we still can feel.
Ten bells and the man were still not up. Clearly, he'd need to get used to being part of the Vigil's shifts again. But not today...
Today Nathaniel just wanted to talk.
Anders wasn't able to sleep more than a few hours in a row, no matter how many times he had squirmed or tried to change position; a nasty habit of a man on the run. His body was as tense as a bowstring, drifting between sleep and awareness for the last few days. Vigil's Keep was a place he hadn't thought to see again. Life was just full of surprises. Usually quite unpleasant, as he'd learned. He still couldn't decide if being brought back to Vigil's Keep was to be considered as a positive or negative thing.
Too alert to sleep, the blond mage opened his eyes and eyed his room tiredly. His previous room was much more to his liking, but he wasn't a picky person, not anymore at least. It was a huge improvement, compared to his tiny room in Darktown, or the other places he'd had to live during the last years. The furniture was simple and dull, but at least the room had a large window. Risa was smart enough (or still cared enough) to realize a room with a window would help the mage feel less trapped.
Anders sighed and stared at the wall, curled up like an embryo. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, enjoying the soft fur. He suspected it wasn't part of the regular Warden's set but who he was to decline the warmth of such a gift?
There were too many sensations, too many unfamiliar people occupying this once-familiar place where he had found some happiness years ago. He could feel them staring at him when they thought he wasn't looking. That was too much for his unstable, bare nerves. So the mage found himself simply hiding from the world. It was much easier that way.
"Anders. Rise and shine, sleepyhead..."
Anders turned his head towards the door. He recognized the voice's owner immediately, Nathaniel Howe. Anders shook his head disapprovingly yet stood up with some effort. Sliding the blankets tighter around his gaunt frame, he went to the door and opened it.
"Nathaniel?" the single word contained surprise, a question and some sleepy annoyance.
"Anders. Good morning. ...Or is it?" Nathaniel crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, giving Anders one of his rare smiles - not the amused smirk most saw, or the sardonic sneer he'd inherited from his father. He crossed one leg as well, leaning, looking careless and trying to take up less room, look less bulky. Something about the open smile Nathaniel gave himsent a pang through Anders' heart. Had he missed that long forgotten smile? Maker, he had, he had missed his friend. He really had.
Howe took in the mage's bleak appearance, and the smile faltered a little. "Did you sleep well?" Anders only shrugged in response. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and choked back a yawn. "I did, a bit. It's hard for me to sleep for long. Old habits die hard."
Howe looked across to the large window, and nodded, as if it were the answer to a question he'd had. "Are you comfortable here? If there's anything that you'd like, anything that would make it feel more... well, yours, I suppose... let me know. Anders shifted from foot to foot, thoughtful. "I don't know," he admitted. "Right now I am mostly confused. So many memories, everything is the same and yet it's not. I…I need some time to adjust. Ask me in a month or so." Talking with Nathaniel as if everything were all right was not easy for the mage. Part of him wanted to embrace the pleasant memories of friendship and card games while the other cried out in horror at the much less pleasant memories he carried with him from that period.
That smile again, with a hint of something slightly sad, something gentle. Anders averted his eyes.
"Are you hungry? I thought perhaps we could eat. And talk. Some place other than the mess hall with everyone and his sister hanging about." Nathaniel suggested. Anders wanted to refuse, to be left alone. Yet his mouth voiced a soft agreement. He left one of the blankets on the bed, as the other was still wrapped around him. Thinly smiling back, he followed the black- haired man. Maybe simply talking wouldn't be as stressful as he imagined it.
Nathaniel moved with certainty and grace down the hall, and when voices seemed to be approaching them, he slipped into a side room, nodding for Anders to follow him.
Inside the room, which was dusty and filled with crates, Nathaniel walked over to the fireplace. He pressed on part of the carved mantelpiece, and then stooped to press against the back of the fireplace. It moved back with a slight grating sound, and Nathaniel disappeared inside. The mage's eyes grew wide when Howe went to the dusty fireplace, pressed on part of the carved mantelpiece and revealed a hidden entrance. "Oh, that is unexpected…" Anders drawled, almost backpedaling as the darkness of the passage silently laughed at him. He didn't want to follow Nathaniel in there.
"Thomas, Delilah and I discovered these secret passages as kids - no doubt they were intended to allow Howe ancestors to flee if the Keep were surprised..." Nathaniel scowled. "Or to keep assignations their spouses or servants were not to know about," Nathaniel continued, still oblivious to Anders' distress. "Regardless - this will let me take you to... breakfast, without us having to exchange pleasantries with anyone. Come." he said encouragingly. "I...I don't know. I still don't feel very comfortable with too many walls around me." His eyes flickered between Nathaniel and the darkish passage, his fear leaking out.
Nathaniel didn't remember him acting like that before. The mage had never liked being below ground, it was true, but he had never looked as afraid as he did now. Nathaniel straightened up, pulling the passageway shut and engaging the locking mechanism. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to." he said, tempering it with a nod.
"Those hidden passages…how common they are? Are they to be found in each room?"
Lowering his eyes and playing with the edge of his blanket, Anders licked his lips nervously.
"Not all of them. Your room, for an example, doesn't have an entrance into the passages - you don't have to worry about someone coming in any other way than the door," Nathaniel said, trying for another reassuring smile.
"Oh, it'll definitely ease my sleep at nights." Anders's tone was more sarcastic than he meant. He fidgeted and looked away from the dark- haired archer. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I'm sorry," Anders hurried to add.
Nathaniel walked over to Anders, calculating which way he could take him with a minimum of fuss. As he thought it over, he stopped and looked - really looked - at the man in front of him. Anders looked older than he ought to, painfully thin, and as if he hadn't slept well in a long time. Sighing inwardly, the archer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he should have let Anders try to sleep more. Perhaps what he had arranged as a treat, a sort of welcoming home, was instead an imposition and a burden.
Trying to find a bridge between them, Nathaniel slowly gestured that they should return to the hallway and asked in a soft voice, "What would ease your sleep?"
Anders looked up sharply. He definitely didn't expect to hear the care, the concern in Nathaniel's voice, to see it in his uncharacteristically soft eyes. The mage swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, lowering his chin. Why did Nathaniel care? He chewed on his dry lip. "I...don't know. I am not sure it's even possible. Do I deserve a decent sleep, after all I have caused?" he asked the other Warden, in no more than a hoarse whisper. A renewed wave of guilt, remorse and self-hatred washed through his sickly body. He had lost the count of how many times he had felt this way, left to live with the consequences of his deeds. Indeed, it was the worst punishment for the healer in him, for his already broken being.
Not allowing the other to respond the mage slightly lowered his voice, finally daring to ask. "Nathaniel how did you and Commander find me? And... why I am still alive?" His voice was very calm and only the slight shiver of his hands messing with the blanket gave him away. Anders didn't know how to explain that he still hadn't been sent for an early Calling or any other punishment fit for his crimes. Wary and scared, he found the expectation was killing him.
Nathaniel squinted at Anders. "We heard about Kirkwall... I don't think it's possible that anyone in Thedas didn't, though it really didn't occur to us that you were the Anders that started this Mage-Templar war. We thought it was an Anders... not our Anders, not you. And you were officially announced as dead. People saw you dying." He gave a humorless smile. "Finding you was an accident, actually. There were rumors of a healer close to Denerim, an apostate healer matching your description. We happened to be on the way back from the capital anyway, so we decided to investigate. It sounded stupid back then, knowing you were dead, but Risa insisted. I am glad she did. When we started feeling another Warden, well..." Nathaniel frowned at the blond mage. "And what do you mean, why aren't you dead? Are you talking in a philosophical way, speaking rhetorically about why you haven't been killed during your travels - or are you seriously asking whether I'd help drag you back here to face the hangman?"
"I thought you were going to kill me, or punish me by any other means you thought I deserved for what I have done. That's why I surrendered. As I said before, I am tired of running," Anders replied flatly. "I just find it hard to wait, not to know. I would prefer to face my fate already. Don't taunt me, please."
Nathaniel felt his anger drop away, replaced by confused horror. Anders actually thought... "No. We didn't lie to you - we brought you ho- we brought you here to refuge, to shield you from the world. You're a Warden, Anders - and we take care of our own." Anders just kept starting at him, his eyes wary and questioning. Nathaniel sighed and added quietly, "If it was to kill you... why we would we trouble to heal you and bring you here? Wouldn't a slit throat right there in your clinic have been easier all around?"
Anders laughed bitterly, a hoarse sound from the depths of his thin chest. "Perhaps it's exactly what I deserve. I am a very infamous man after all. I can't even die like a decent person."
Nathaniel couldn't even make a joke of it. "I never imagined you'd be famous for…. I never thought... well. It just didn't seem to be in you to do something so extreme... to harm innocents as well as... It just seems so out of character for you."
Tightening the blanket around his shoulders, the blond apostate just stood there for a while, considering his options. "I have changed my mind. We can use the passage. I don't want to be seen or to see anyone else right now. I hate the way they look at me. I can feel them staring. It's quite unnerving." Nathaniel was surprised by blonde's decision. He got the feeling that the more confined he was, the more panicked Anders was.
Frowning, Anders looked at the fireplace and tried his best to suppress the shiver. I can do it. There are no templars, no locks. It's not the same. I can trust this person. I think I can. He knew he shouldn't do it but couldn't stop himself, almost reaching out for Howe's hand. He needed some human contact now, something to support his decision, desperately hoping for some kind of approval and comfort, and angry at himself for being such a weakling.
Nathaniel almost missed Anders reaching out for his hand and then stopping. Well. The man had always been gregarious and rather easy about touching others and being touched. Nathaniel had noticed the same tendencies in other mage-Wardens who came from the Circle. Was it a cultural thing he wondered for a moment?
And he had held the mage's hand after Risa had finished yelling at him at this nameless clinic of his in that nameless hole of a village he had been hiding in, to calm him. The dwarf was petite, even for her own kind, but frightening when angry. There was no doubt in either Nathaniel's mind at that moment, nor in Anders's, that she had actually slain the Archdemon personally. It had only occurred to them later that her furious diatribe was born out of mingled rage at how close they'd come to losing Anders to templars at that tiny rural clinic, and her overwhelming relief.
"Ok. Let's go then." Nathaniel reopened the passage, lighting a torch within one of the two brackets there and taking it in his left hand. He stepped inside and extended his other hand to Anders. Nodding approvingly at the light the torch provided, Anders straightened himself. Hesitantly he took Nathaniel's hand, finding the comfort he needed so badly. Nathaniel's hand was warm and callused. Anders braced himself and stepped forward, after his fellow Warden.
Focusing entirely on Nathaniel and trying to breathe as calmly as possible, Anders was led between the damp walls. He was sweating despite all his efforts, biting down the distressed sounds of rising panic. He stumbled a few times, each time gasping and tightening his grip on his fellow Warden's hand.
Nathaniel led Anders through the cool passage as quickly as he could. The feeling of the mage's hand spasming around his and becoming slick with sweat caused him to hurry even more. He cursed himself - there had to be another quiet way back from the roof. He wasn't going to put Anders through this again.
He opened the secret door that led directly into the stairwell to the roof. Blowing out the torch and put it into the holder inside the passage, and shut the passage, he gestured for Anders to precede him up the stairs into the open air.
"Thank you for your patience." Anders mumbled, still feeling nervous and somewhat unfocused. His head fell back, welcoming the stray wind cooling his trembling, sweaty features. He took a few shaky breaths, finally releasing Howe's hand with a quiet apology. "I... really... hate small dark places..." Anders murmured as he breathed deep long breathes to relax his shivering body. And then he turned around, going very still at the sight unraveled before his wide eyes.
The roof actually was covered with grass, and a couple of goats were up here, munching away. The bar-eyed critters gave them both a curious look and then moved off, presumably to greener pastures. And a big picnic basket placed on a large blanket was a colorful stain in the middle of everything.