Goodness Spent
Chapter One: Fish Out Of Water

"By the Maker, what is he?" The young templar was unable to disguise the horror choking him as he stared at...

What was he? Who was he? The answer was buried in a miasma of memories swirling in and out of each other, some that knew parents, some that knew the Fade. He had to get control of himself, even as agony ripped him in twain.

"He's an abomination, that's what he is!" The other templar, the smug-faced bastard who'd always regarded him in contempt, the one behind his torment, spat out hatefully.

"No," he started to plead- he wasn't an abomination... was he? No, he was a mage. He was a spirit? He stared down at his hands- solid. He had to be human, a mage. But he wasn't just human anymore, now that he looked; some sort of light cracked through his flesh, all the more vivid in the dark of the night.

"Kill it, quick, before he has a chance to summon more demons!"

The order stirred the blood in his veins, new power lent to the anger that surged at once again being condemned before he could even speak, and he glared at the templars before him, the ones with tainted blood (like his), and all was white rage.

"Stay away," he whimpered his warning to the dark of his closed eyes. "Why didn't you stay away?"

Blood trickled from his mouth as he fled to the forest. He had to get away, away from the keep, away from the wardens, away from the bodies-he nearly doubled over, his fists clenching the guard rail reflexively. The blood wasn't his; he couldn't remember how it had gotten between his teeth. They would find what he left behind soon, they would know it was him.

But who was he?

"You're looking a little green around the gills there, Ser."

His head bolted upright, having sagged the deeper into his memories he'd probed. Bright noonday sun overhead, scattered clouds lazily working their way towards the horizon, shining blue-green sea expanding in every direction. Beneath his feet, the ship swayed in the occasional chop of waves. Taking in a deep breath to settle his suddenly racing heart, the salty air filled his lungs. He remembered where he was. He straightened more fully, this time smoothing back the blond wisps escaping his tie, which stuck more firmly in place with the smeared sweat- had he been sweating that much? Maker's Breath.

"If I had gills, there wouldn't be a problem, now would there?" He tried grinning, though his voice cracked just enough to give him away. "I could just swim the rest of the way."

He looked to the one who'd joined him, and whatever grin he had faded. Though she wore a hood, it was resting comfortably behind her ears, leaving the crisp curls of her raven hair to catch the sunlight. Long, black lashes framed her strikingly blue eyes, which glittered with amusement as they watched him. She bore him a soft smile, guarded but friendly, and her hands were crossed at the wrist as they rested on the railing.

"Ah, but if you were a fish, would you still go to Kirkwall?" the woman asked, her eyes flashing with cunning.

"No," he replied in reflection. "I suppose I wouldn't. There's a vast ocean out there I could lose myself in instead. Sadly, I am not a fish."

"Are you sure?" The woman lightly nudged him with her elbow, grinning. "You look a little like a fish out of water."

His head tilted to one side as he regarded her in mock exasperation. "Really? You're going to make that joke?"

She giggled."Got you to smile, didn't it?"

Huh. So it had. At least, one corner of his mouth had twisted up in more good humor than he'd felt in... forever, it seemed. Still, he rolled his eyes- she wouldn't win the battle with his foul mood with one bad joke.

After a beat, she leaned closer, her smile growing more engaging. "So, if you're not a fish, then may I ask who you are? I'd like to call you by something while we're chatting, at least."

"I don't recall asking you to chat with me."

She pouted. "There's no need to be so sullen. Is it really so much trouble to ask you for your name?" Straightening in feigned indignation, she placed her gloved hand over her heart. "But fine, I'll go first. My name is Evelyn. And you are?"

"That's a lovely name," he replied, biting back a chuckle. "But I'm not so sure I want you knowing mine."

"Ooh, look who's trying to be all mysterious!" She laughed, much to his chagrin. "I'd say I had more reason to hide my name than you do, but then..." The mirth softened from her features as she took another step nearer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Perhaps we have more in common than you think."

The nearness, the warmth radiating from her pale skin, nearly distracted him from her meaning. He lowered his voice in answer, "You mean, you...?"

"I came over to see if you weren't feeling a little seasick, and if there wasn't something I could do about that," she giggled. "Surreptitiously, of course, a nudge away from nausea. But whatever's bothering you, it's not something physical, is it?"

"No," he agreed, standing to his full height now. Much to his shock, he realized that he stood nearly a full foot taller than the young woman. "Magic wouldn't really do me much good right now, or I'd be trying to remedy the situation myself."

At his implied admission, she smiled. "So I figured that maybe the best way to treat what was ailing you was some company. You seem quite a bit livelier now than you did a moment ago, after all."

"How could you tell...?" He gestured to himself questioningly. "The robes weren't that clear of a giveaway, were they?"

"Well, they're not typical for your average Mage On The Go," she smirked, "But you've definitely got some distinctly Tevinter elements in your getup right now that sort of stand out. Even so, no, that's not entirely it."

She paused, and as doubt filled her features, her eyes deepened in hue. "No, there's something about your... aura... it's something magical, but something more. But I'm not able to refine my sense on it any further than that." She shrugged. "It's like you're carrying a piece of the Fade with you."

His eyebrows darted up in alarm, and he fought to keep his expression as neutral as possible. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied, hoping that if she didn't believe him, she would at least respect that boundary.

Her mouth twisted in disappointment, and she folded her arms thoughtfully. "I see. Either way, you do realize you're not doing yourself any favors by going to Kirkwall?" That smirk was back. "I think only the White Spire in Orlais is more constrictively pro-templar than that city."

"That's actually why I'm headed out that way," he replied tentatively, unsure how much to share with this young woman. He got the distinct impression that it would be difficult to mislead her, particularly with the intelligence shining behind those eyes. "What about you?"

Sighing the weight from her lungs, she gazed off into the distance, perhaps visualizing her goal. After a long pause, she smiled bitterly. "I'm looking for family."

"Family?" He scowled. "Would they take you in?"

"I..." Her head dipped, letting a few curls fall across her line of vision. "I don't know if they're even still alive. The last I saw of them was my mother, crying as they..." She took a deep breath. "That was nearly twelve years ago now. Contact was impossible."

He nodded. The story was a common one. Children ripped away from parents in the dead of night, mothers crying as they tucked a pillow into their son's arms... He blinked rapidly, refusing to let the sudden sting in his eyes form tears. "But it's something," he added at last.

"Yes."

"More than most of us have, anyway," he continued, following her gaze out to the sea.

She turned her attention back on him."So, what is it you are looking for?"

"Perhaps the closest thing I have to family right now," he sighed. "A friend. We were in contact regularly even while he was in the Kirkwall Circle, and his letters were getting more urgent as time went by... until they stopped coming at all."

"Ooh," she cringed. "That doesn't sound good. Okay, so, what's the plan?"

"Plan? I don't really have one yet." He frowned. "And you're not involved in this."

"I am now," she insisted, grinning. "As you say, if this is the closest thing you've got to family, it's important you find him. And, you know, folks like you and me, we don't tend to have a lot of allies to count on in this world." Her grin expanded to a full on, blinding beam. "You need me to help with this!"

He tried to maintain his scowl, but his furrowed brow and thinned lips softened the longer she smiled at him. "No. I will not allow you to be dragged into this mess. It's dangerous enough for one mage-"

"You're absolutely right; it's too dangerous to tangle with the templars alone. Honestly speaking? I'm terrified of looking for my family. Even if they're still alive, I don't know that they won't just call for the templars again. I stand a very good chance of them having me arrested on sight." She shivered at the thought. "So I admit, I'm willing to put off my search once I arrive for a little bit. Long enough to figure out the situation first. And if I have something to do, I won't feel useless."

She wrapped her arms around herself in a disconsolate embrace, then looked back up to him. "Maybe part of me is hoping that if I help you and your friend, you'll help me out with my petty problems, too."

The display of vulnerability caught him offguard. There was no artifice in her words, and she spoke openly about her fears- the goosebumps on her flesh could not be faked. Of course, the dark inner recesses of his mind warned, one can always deceive by using the truth. He brushed the paranoia aside, however; there was something about this young woman, something he couldn't put his finger on, that felt like an old friend.

"I get the feeling," he opened casually, his smirk returning, "that even if I tell you 'no' again, I'll just find you tagging along, regardless."

"That's a pretty safe assumption, yes," she giggled.

"So even if I warn you that this is dangerous, life-threatening, that the chances are good you may end up with a brand on your forehead...?"

She peered up at him through her eyelashes. "You would still have my help getting that far."

His fingers darted up to the loose wisps of blond that obscured his vision, tucking them behind his ear. "You know, apostates are usually far more self-serving. I think it would be better for your well-being if you weren't so invested in the business of people in trouble."

Her mouth twisted in discomfort. "I've been on the run for six, maybe seven years now. I've done a lot of 'looking out for my best interests'. But in that time, I've seen how badly maligned our people are. How could I keep running from my problems when there are other mages far less fortunate than I am? Far better that we watch out for one another than let the Chantry hunt us down one by one." Her eyes grew shadowed by the dark wings of bitterness. "Injustice prevails when good people do nothing."

Before he was even consciously aware of it, his hand had moved to cover one of hers, resting on the guard rail. Had he moved it? Had the other presence in his mind reacted to the talk of justice, of the same argument He'd once made to him? The lines were still so blurred in his mind.

"I've wondered if I'd ever hear someone else say so," he murmured warmly, smiling.

She returned his smile, this time with the rosiness in her complexion deepening. "I'm glad to hear you agree, uh..." Her eyes blanked as she tried to recall if he'd ever said his name.

He chuckled, and lifted the hand that had been on hers to offer it by way of introduction. "You may call me Anders."

She grinned. "Ah, so the fishie does have a name!" As another thought dawned on her, she tilted her head slightly. "You know, now that I look at you, you kinda look like you've got some Ander blood in you."

He snorted. "My family is from the Anderfels, yes. Let's not go down that road, though."

"I have no intention of going to the Anderfels, darling," she drawled sarcastically. "No offense, but if I wanted Blight-infected lands and cold weather, I'd stay in Ferelden."

He laughed, a hearty laugh that he hadn't heard from himself in... years. "That's not what I meant, and you know it, you little minx."

"Ooo, minx, is it?" She grinned. "So, not only are you already starting with the name-calling, but the flirting, too?"

With years of practice having honed into an instinct, a charming grin curled into place and a retort spiced with interest danced on his tongue. Before a word of it could leave his mouth, however, a heavy weight sank from his chest into his stomach, and the smile vanished. "...No. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

Her lips protruded in protest of him breaking the mood- having been intrigued enough to at least enjoy some playful banter. "And what if I wanted you to mean it that way?"

"Then I would have to disappoint you, my dear lady," he grunted, frustrated with himself, and wondering if perhaps the other guy was leaking into the foreground a bit too much here... ruining his fun. "But I would hate to lead you down that path. The one you've already committed yourself to skipping down with me is dangerous enough."

"Dangerous, hmm?" In a playful imitation of passion, she bit her lower lip. "You do realize that danger is not always a deterrent for women?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Especially women that already live on the precipice of danger?"

He cringed. "No," he repeated. "Let's just say you'd sooner plan your vacation in the Anderfels than look for...that... with me."

Evelyn sighed. She knew a losing argument with low self-esteem when she heard it. Seeing his face darken with angst, however, she laid her hand on his arm, smiling reassuringly up at him. "Hey, no problem. I was just teasing you a little; I meant no harm. If banter isn't your thing, we'll keep it light and friendly, okay?"

But it is my thing, and that's exactly the problem! He was torn between wanting to recoil from her welcome touch, and cupping his opposite hand over hers again. "That's probably wise, all things considered. And thank you."

"Thank me when we've arrived in Kirkwall and eluded the templars after docking," she prodded teasingly. "I mean, I'm small enough that I can get lost in the crowd. Plus, I'm not exactly wearing clothes that scream, 'Hey templars, come smite me!', unlike someone in our midst."

"That's true," he agreed, examining her outfit more closely. While she wore a hood, it was nondescript and dark brown, with a cape that brushed over her narrow shoulders. A simple light blue blouse peeked out from under a leather underbust corset, with a darker blue pair of woolen leggings tucked into calf-high leather boots. A violet scarf was tied around her waist, accenting the blues of her outfit and giving the illusion of wider hips than the petite woman actually bore.

"So we'll have to find a way to smuggle you in without you grabbing the attention of every guardsman and templar within a fifty mile radius," she snickered.

"And a hooded cloak would only manage to make me look even more shady and suspicious," he nodded, chuckling despite his dissipating foul mood. "I didn't exactly have time to prepare an outfit for travel. Which is, sadly, going to work against me."

"We'll manage," she insisted. "We've got some time to plan, anyway. A couple more days. Besides, I've already got some ideas. We could always..."

As she listed off the various plans of escape and subterfuge, from hiding in a crate to her throwing a classic 'Orlesian Tantrum' to give him cover, Anders allowed his thoughts to drift back to another, far more pertinent struggle for him. How was he ever going to execute his plan to save Karl, his friend, from the templars, when he couldn't even figure out who he was? Everything had happened so fast, he couldn't even fully remember booking his passage on the boat- did he call on a contact, or pay for it himself? He hadn't run into any opposition; or, if he had, he didn't recall it- a thought that chilled his blood. Escaping from Amaranthine had gone far more smoothly than he could have anticipated. He must have moved just a bit faster than the news of what had happened... what he'd done.

He glanced back to Evelyn, who was now rambling about this one time she'd escaped a templar by pretending to be a bird. He might have to tell her eventually why he was really on this boat, what drove him from the first home he'd known since before the Circle. She'd already figured out some of it- how close she'd come to the truth genuinely spooked him. She was astute, and it wouldn't be long before she'd know for sure.

He would have to tell her, he resolved. Far better that she hear it from him than figure out that he'd kept the truth from her. But watching her now, the light in her eyes and the flush of vivacity in her cheeks, he dreaded her ever knowing. She wouldn't smile like that with him, a smile he was already fond of.

Her fingertips grazed the back of his hand, an accident of enthusiastic social conduct, but one that sent heat bolting up his arm and through the rest of him. He smiled; he was definitely still human.