Title: give it some time to grow
Summary: It's been exactly two years and thirty days since anyone has seen Anders. Or, the one where Nathaniel and Garret go on a road trip and explore the Deep Roads with a nug.
Warnings: none really
Notes: um ok so this is a mess im so sorry i
i might end up writing a second piece to this with actual hANDERS IN IT but u know what
-0-
It's been exactly two years and thirty days since anyone has seen Anders.
Garret knows what the word exile means. It means you have to leave, and never come back.
Garret also knows that he's the one that chose to send Anders away in the first place, so really he has no right to be counting the days like this - but he is.
Sometimes, when he really wants to make himself feel better, he tells himself that he would want regulated updates on Meredith too, if she were still alive. Something about keeping eyes on enemies comes to mind.
Garret knows Anders isn't a villain, logically. You can't be close to someone for more than six years and not at least get a rudimentary grasp on what kind of person you're associating with.
Anders is a healer at heart. His motives weren't exactly subtle.
On nights where Garret sits for hours in a back corner of his favorite pub nursing a pint of ale in one hand and his head in the other, he remembers a conversation they'd had while laying on his bed. It wasn't one of the evenings they'd had sex, the day before had been far too long and rough for that. Garret can't think of what had happened that day, what ridiculous odd jobs they might have been running; but especially in light of the attack on the Chantry a few weeks later, the words they shared that night stand out stark and bright in his mind.
'I don't know what to do,' Anders had muttered softly while shaking his head. 'I don't know how to help.'
Garret had asked the customary, 'About what?' but he'd known what Anders was talking about.
'The mages in Kirkwall. In the whole world.' He'd paused for a long while before adding in an even smaller whisper. 'I have to do something. I can't just sit by.'
The Garret of then had snorted and joked, because that's how he always dealt with problems he didn't know how to fix or understand. 'Is this your idea of pillow talk, Anders?'
Anders had frowned and glared at him before turning over. That's alright, Garret had thought back then. I like looking at your back, too.
'It's like a wound.' Anders' voice had been diamond, then. Hard and sharp, but still as beautiful as ever. 'The lives mages have to live to survive. It's like a big, festering wound that they slash open again and again to make sure that it keeps bleeding, just for the sake of blood. But they always make sure to cover it up with a big, nice bandage, so that no-one can see how hurt we really are.'
Garret had said nothing.
He thinks Anders may have pulled that bandage off too quickly, and left the wound open to even more infection.
-0-
It's been exactly three years and one-hundred-and-ninety-days since anyone has seen Anders.
Although it's taken a long time, Garret thinks the mage-templar conflict in Kirkwall might finally be settled.
Drastic as it was, Anders' last resort had caught many eyes. Between the people howling for retribution against all mages for his act, and the people who defended it as a desperate move of an oppressed people, all sorts flocked to Kirkwall to try and fill the power vacuum left in Meredith's wake.
The general populace of mages were equally divided. Some felt that Anders had acted wrongfully, and that his attack would only tighten the chains they wore instead of freeing them. Others praised him with so much reverence that they might as well be praising the second-coming of Andraste. They called themselves the 'World Healers,' and had taken his attack to heart. They broke off from what was left of the Circle, and used guerrilla tactics to strike swiftly and savagely at other Chantries around the world.
Most, however, were neutral. Garret had talked to a few of them himself, and for the most part they seemed resigned and uninterested. It was just another action that would govern their fates without their say, one mage told him.
Eventually, the power struggles between the mages and the templars fell evenly. It helped that the Circle's new Head Enchanter had finally managed to perfect a complicated spell that would alert the user if it's target was a practitioner of blood magic. With a clear and concise method of weeding out the problem, most of the paranoia and mysticism of darker magic was lifted. Mages found guilty of blood magic were put through a psychological test to determine whether or not they were still sane. Mages that passed would be sent through a regulated treatment program while serving jail time.
At the mages' behest, the Rite of Tranquility was abolished. It was a leap of faith for the templars, and it was one that worked out in their favor. Without the looming threat of a fate worse than death, less and less mages turned to blood magic to protect themselves. The Circle in Kirkwall became more of a boarding school than a jail, as mages were now allowed to move freely within it's walls as long as they agreed to stop at multiple checkpoints within the city to let themselves be scanned for Misuse of Magic.
It wasn't perfect, but even Garret could see it was a far sight better than it had been.
Then, the templars demanded Grand Cleric Elthina's murderer be brought in for execution; the Circle, terrified of losing their new found freedom and jumping at the chance to please the templars whenever they could, agreed.
That was how, three years and one-hundred-and-ninety-one days since he's seen Anders, Garret Hawke is conscripted by the Templar-Mage Alliance to hunt down his ex.
-0-
To be honest, Garret has no idea where to start. He's not the only one that hasn't seen hide or hair of Anders for what feels like forever- not even Varric has any information for him when he goes asking, and really, that's what makes Garret's stomach roll the most. Varric has information on everything.
He calls up every favor he's got hanging and checks in with every information network he knows, and nothing. The only thing he can assume from that is that wherever Anders is, he's nowhere near Kirkwall. Garret isn't surprised, but it's still a sinking ball of lead in his gut and he doesn't like it.
He's not thinking about what's going to happen when he finds Anders. If he starts thinking then he'll think about Anders dying and there's a reason Garret only had him exiled, you know.
Everyone offers to help out, but Garret needs to do this alone, and they've got their own lives now that he is wary to interrupt with a manhunt that's been brewing for three years.
Garret gets on a boat to Ferelden two weeks after he gets orders to bring Anders in.
-0-
Ferelden is larger than he remembers. Garret has stopped in Amaranthine, and has commandeered an entire table to himself in the Crown and Lion. Maps are spread across its entire surface and he's methodically checking off places he's searched and questioned.
So far, he's been across half of Ferelden and not a single person seems to have seen Anders. He's even left his sword at the inn once, so that maybe he'll give off more of an approachable vibe. It doesn't work.
Thoughts of Orlais and Antiva flit across his mind, and Garret tries to align himself with the idea that he might have to search there too. It's not hard, but it makes the job seem far bigger than it might be. It's best to prepare for the worst, he thinks.
Garret is so busy reaching out and searching for information that he almost doesn't notice it when it sits down right in front of him. Literally.
"A-hmm." A throat clearing nearly jumps him out of his chair, and Garret looks up wildly from his maps. A strangely familiar dark-haired man has sat down across from him, and is tapping his long fingers against the paper covered table with a generally unamused air.
Garret stares.
"I heard someone was looking for an old acquaintance of mine. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" The look he gives Garret makes him assume that the man already knows the answer to that question, just as Garret knew the answer to Anders' question three years ago.
Garret leans back in his chair and folds his arms. "If you're talking about Anders, then yes. I am." He raises a single eyebrow for emphasis and asks plainly, "And who are you?"
The man's eyes only narrow further. "We met, once. In the deep roads."
Garret takes a moment to think back, and realizes why the face in front of him is familiar. "You're... Howe. The son."
Howe nods. "That's right. I'd much rather you call me Nathaniel, though. I'm sure you can imagine why."
"Alright, Nathaniel. Why are you here? Can you tell me where Anders is?"
Nathaniel shakes his head, never taking his eyes from Garret's. "No, I can't. I don't know much more than you do." He snorts. "And don't you know it's good manners to give your name in exchange for someone else's?"
"Hawke." Garret grunts, and for a moment he reminds himself of Fenris and suddenly, he really, really misses his friends. "You said you don't know 'much more.' Then, you know something I don't?"
Nathaniel averts his eyes and stares at the ground, mouth drawn into a taut line and eyebrows furrowed. "Only about Grey Wardens."
Garret starts. He'd forgotten that Anders was a Grey Warden, once.
"But he quit, didn't he? Did he join back up with them?" He asks.
Nathaniel glances back to him out of the corner of his eyes for a few moments, before looking back at the ground. "You don't quit the Grey Wardens. Once you're a Warden, you're a Warden forever."
Garret sighs and scratches his chin awkwardly. "What are you trying to say? So, did he join back up with them?"
"No." Nathaniel says. They sit in silence for what feels like hours, before Nathaniel seems to come to a decision. "I'd like to help. Look for him, I mean."
Garret considers it, still scratching his beard. He starts to chew on his bottom lip. (A habit he picked up from watching Anders worry his lips white.) "Listen, Howe-"
"Nathaniel."
"Nathaniel- I think you know something you're not telling me. I'd appreciate the help, but I'd really appreciate whatever you think you know." Garret grinds out, and starts to fold his maps up. It's getting late, and he's probably not going to get much else done tonight.
"I-" Nathaniel glares at him as he stands up.
"Relax, big guy. I'm not going anywhere, just to bed. I'm gonna be in town for another day or two. If you change your mind about telling me what I want to know, come find me."
And Garret slips out the front door.
-0-
It's around noon the next day when he runs into Nathaniel again. Garret rolls back into the Crown and Lion, and the lanky dark-haired man is sitting patiently at the table Garret had camped at yesterday. He entertains the idea for a moment that Nathaniel never moved, and chuckles to himself.
"Nice weather today, right?" Garret waves to him breezily as he plops down in his chair.
"Why are you looking for Anders?" Nathaniel, apparently, does not partake in small talk. Garret's always thought a person's propensity to small talk says a lot about them.
Anders never liked small talk, either.
Garret clicks his teeth and calls a waitress over and orders a pint. He doesn't open his mouth again until the cool glass is under his hand. "For my own reasons." He gives. And maybe it's not exactly a lie, either.
Nathaniel doesn't buy it, he can tell. When Garret doesn't expand on his answer after ten minutes, he gives up and shakes his head.
"Why are you looking for Anders?" Garret asks. He doesn't think he's going to get an answer, especially not after his half-assed excuse, but still.
Nathaniel glowers. "None of your business, Hawke. Where have you looked so far?"
"I've scoured half of Ferelden, and I haven't seen hide or hair of him." Garret grumbles, and takes a long swig from his glass.
"Hmmm." Nathaniel splays his hands out on the table and seems to study them. "Have you been asking the right kinds of people?"
"Been asking anyone that'll give me the time of day. No-one's seen anyone that even slightly matches his description." Garret says.
"Hmmm." Nathaniel humms again, and finally fixes Garret with the same harsh stare from the day before. "He might have changed his appearance, or the people you've asked are protecting him and not ratting him out, you know."
Growling, Garret finishes off his ale and pushes the empty glass to the side. "Of course I know that. But is there really anything I can do?"
"I wonder." Nathaniel eyes the empty ale glass with disdain. Garret wonders if he doesn't like alcohol. Or, more reasonably, maybe he just doesn't like ale. "You might not be asking the right questions. After all, actions speak louder than words."
"Huh?" Garret grunts.
Nathaniel gives him a truly impressive long-suffering glare that he's only ever seen the likes of on Carver. The thought of his brother makes Garret's heart stutter and his gut clench. It's been almost ten years since Carver's death, and it still makes Garret sick to his stomach to think about. "What does Anders do, Hawke?"
Garret thinks. "He's... a mage. He blew up the Kirkwall Chantry and killed the High Priestess. He... heals people? He-"
"No, right there. That one. Heals people. Even as annoying as he was, Anders always went out of his way to heal whoever he could."
Garret stares at him.
Nathaniel groans. "Don't make me spell it out for you, Hawke, you imbecile. Instead of asking around for a shady apostate, ask around for people who have been sick, or hurt recently. I guarantee eventually you'll find someone who will have made a 'miracle' recovery." He snaps his fingers, and smirks. It's the first form of a smile at all Garret's seen on him. "That's how you'll find Anders."
-0-
It doesn't take long, then. Garret doesn't even have to wait a whole day before he finds exactly what Nathaniel said he would - someone who had been terribly sick, and had made a full recovery overnight. In this case, it was a tiny old lady with graying hair and a stern face. She told him that she'd fallen down while alone while visiting her daughter's grave, and broken one of her ribs. It had punctured her lung, and she had been sure she was going to die. Suddenly, before she passed out, a young man wearing a hood had appeared and told her he was here to help. She'd woken up leaned against her daughter's headstone, good as new. The cut on her finger she'd accidentally given herself that morning chopping carrots had even healed over.
Garret knows, logically, that it could have been any old apostate, but something in his gut tells him the man who'd saved her was Anders. When he asks her if he'd told her anything about where he was going next, she shakes her head. Then she mentions, right before he leaves, that she is immensely grateful towards the mysterious young man because now she would be able to make the journey to Denerim to visit her sick son, and Garret wonders.
-0-
Garret runs into Nathaniel the next morning, and tells him that he's heading to Denerim.
Nathaniel nods, and asks Garret to wait while he packs his things.
They set out an hour later.
-0-
The first day on the road is awkward. They never talk besides 'wait's' and 'i hear something's' and 'let's go's'. The silence is killing Garret, who is suddenly and intimately aware of how used to the incessant chatter of his friends he is.
By the second day, Garret is sure he's going out of his mind. He starts trying to mention small things, like the breeze or the leaves or the trail they're following. Nathaniel does nothing but grunt in response. He's not sure who's harder to talk to - Nathaniel or Carver.
After a few moments, he has to conclude Carver. After all, Carver's dead.
Garret's mood sours.
"How did you meet Anders?" He asks.
Nathaniel is quiet for so long that Garret assumes he's not going to answer. Until - "He was staying at the Amaranthine Keep; with the other Grey Wardens. I broke in to take my things."
Stealing? Well, you learn something new every day, Garret thinks. He wouldn't have pegged Nathaniel for a theif. As cranky as he was, Nathaniel seemed like a man of honor.
"My things, Hawke. My things. You do remember that the Amaranthine Keep used to belong to the Howe's?" Nathaniel says evenly, and keeps his eyes steady on the path before them as they walk.
"Relax, Nathaniel. I've stolen my fair share in Kirkwall. I was a part of a smuggling ring, you know." Garret snorts and shakes his head. "Had to pick up a fair amount of dirty jobs to survive."
He knows he's said the wrong thing when Nathaniel all but growls, and walks briskily ahead of him. "It wasn't a dirty job. I've taken dirty jobs too, and that wasn't one of them. Those were my things." He bites out angrily.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. So, how did you end up meeting Anders? Did he catch you?"
Nathaniel slows back to his earlier pace, and Garret skips a few steps to catch up. Nathaniel's gaze has gone slightly unfocused, and he's staring off the road like he's seeing something else. "... No. He had already been conscripted into the Grey Wardens, and when I was imprisioned the only people I had contact with were the jailer and the Warden Commander."
Nathaniel's mouth hangs slightly open, like he's trying to say something else. Garret says quiet and waits.
"At first I thought the Commander was hopelessly naive, but... he let me out and had me conscripted into their ranks."
Garret blinks. "Wait, you didn't get a choice? Whether or not to become a Grey Warden?"
Nathaniel shakes his head. "No. I did, somewhat." He says.
Leaves, brown and red and yellow from the burning of Fall, crunch under their feet as they walk. Garret sees a gigantic pile off between two trees, and takes a running jump straight into it. He pops up laughing like a maniac, spitting leaves from between his teeth and pulling them out of his hair. Nathaniel is still on the pathway, frozen with disbelief.
"What... do you think you're doing?" Nathaniel croaks.
"What do you mean, what am I doing? It looked like fun, so I did it!" Garret hoots, and grabs two giant handfuls of leaves, keeping them carefully hidden behind his back.
A memory comes back to him then, of trecking to Ostagar with Carver to apply for the army. Carver had snuck out on his own, knowing that Mother would never allow her youngest son to do something so dangerous, especially after Father's death. Carver was more stubborn than a bull, so Garret knew that there was nothing he would be able to do to change Carver's mind.
So, he'd quickly packed a bag of things he'd need, and ran after his baby brother.
It had been Fall then, too. Garret had jumped in every leaf pile he saw big enough to hold him, and tossed leaves down the back of Carver's shirt. They'd gotten into a fistfight, there on the side of the road. It's one of Garret's favorite memories, only because it's one of the only ones he has where Carver laughs.
So, when he catches back up to Nathaniel, Garret tucks his handfuls of leaves down the man's collar as fast as lightning. Nathaniel whips around and, with one hand groping up the back of his shirt to pull the crinkly leaves out, uses the other to clock Garret straight across the face.
Garret's still laughing as he goes down.
-0-
It's the third night when they reach Denerim. Garret's marginally surprised that they didn't run into much trouble on their journey besides two small bandit groups. He's also very, very grateful. He may be the Champion of Kirkwall, and he's sure his companion isn't a shabby fighter himself, but getting outnumbered one-hundred-to-two is still not on his list of things he wants to try today. Or ever, really. Maybe if the one-hundred were Mabaris, and instead of fighting them he just had to scratch their tummies and play with all of them.
He'd left his own dog with Aveline, who he trusted more than any of the others to take care of him.
Garret misses his dog. And Aveline. He misses her too.
They check into the inn first thing, and spend the rest of the night asking around for anyone who's been sick recently. Garret asks after the old woman's son. He gets an address from a young girl, but the sun is going down and Garret's so tired he might fall over.
When he gets back to the inn, Nathaniel hasn't returned yet. Garret lays awake for another hour, counting the patterns on the ceiling.
-0-
The next morning, Nathaniel is still asleep on the tiny cot beside his when Garret wakes.
Getting dressed seems to make enough noise that Nathaniel startles awake, and Garret feels guilty for a few seconds.
He shows Nathaniel the address he'd gotten last night, and they head out immediately.
It's late in the morning, so Garret isn't worried that whoever they need to talk to will still be sleeping. He raps on the door with three harsh knocks.
After a few moments, it opens just a crack. A disheveled young man is peering at them from the sliver he's opened.
Garret asks him all the same questions he'd asked the older woman, and receives nearly the same answers.
Someone had knocked on the door, much like they had today, and called that they were a healer sent to help. He'd been let in, and within the hour the young man's previously deadly illness had been vanquished.
This time, Garret asks if the young man had any sick relatives, or knew anyone who was sick.
He's not surprised when the young man replies that he used to live in Redcliffe, and that he has a best friend who still lives there. His friend had fallen ill with much the same condition he had.
With a new destination, Garret and Nathaniel don't even wait for the next morning to leave. They return to the inn, pack their bags, and split out of town that day.
-0-
From there on, it becomes something of a pattern. They follow lead after lead, from town to city and city to town, chasing after the ghosts Anders leaves behind in his wake.
Nathaniel isn't the best of company, but neither is he the worst. They argue and give each other orders that they never expect the other to follow. They debate about the differences between the Free Marches and Ferelden, and they share experiences about the Blight. They talk about their little sisters (although Garret never mentions Carver) and they talk about disgraced family names.
Mostly, though, they talk about Anders.
Garret quickly realizes that the Anders Nathaniel speaks of and the Anders he remembers are very different people. Nathaniel's Anders is younger, and not untouched by the horrors of the world, but not brought down by them yet.
He is nothing like Garret's Anders.
Garret thinks that maybe, in a way, Anders is like the very templars he hates. They have grown old and fearful, seeing demons in every shadow. Anders seems to have lost the ability to not see hatred and the gleaming white of templar armor waiting for him around every corner. His cups were always half-empty when Garret knew him.
It's hard for him to imagine that at one point, they may have been half-full.
-0-
It's nearly midnight on their third day on the road after they leave a small Chasind camp, when Nathaniel fixes him with a hard frown (a harder frown than the usual, Garret thinks) and pointedly mentions how 'odd it was that the Templar-Mage Alliance of Kirkwall hasn't sent anyone after Anders.'
Garret chews his lip and doesn't say anything. Nathaniel stares at him for a few moments before turning his attention back to the road. Garret rolls over and pretends to be asleep.
-0-
Anders' trail stops in Orzammar.
Nathaniel is pale as a sheet as they stand before the great city's gates, wringing his hands and sweating so hard Garret has to check and make sure he doesn't have a fever. Nathaniel shakes his hand off, and stalks forward. Garret's worried, but his worry fades away fast in the face of the excitement of being in a new place. He's been in Dwarven Thaigs before, but never one untouched by the darkspawn.
Orzammar is a fine city, Garret thinks, even though he has to crouch to get anywhere indoors. Both Nathaniel and he are tall among humans, and he feels like a giant in Orzammar. It's a fun feeling. They ask around as per custom, but after finding the dwarf Anders had come to heal, they're stumped to find that the dwarf doesn't seem to know anyone else that might be sick. Their trail has gone colder than the stone around them, and Garret tries hard to not be devastated.
He hasn't thought about why he's been looking for Anders in a long while. A churning in his stomach is what greets him whenever he does, and Garret really doesn't want to think about what that means. He just tells himself that when he finds Anders, he'll be able to bring him in. He has to believe that, because if he doesn't then what is he here for?
Garret and Nathaniel split up on their second day in Orzammar, and Garret buries his apprehension about Anders under a fountain of childish glee when he finds Nug Racing. He spends the whole day there, placing bets and yelling with the dwarves. They're awkward at first to have a human betting in their game, but they warm up to him quickly when he downs the pint they give him within five minutes.
One of the nugs has a small limp, and it always comes in last. None of the dwarves ever bet on it, and Garret wonders why they even have it in the race if they know it'll always lose. He thinks about how it would feel to be laughed at constantly, and before he knows it he bets on the lame nug. Garret thinks he might be very drunk, but the dwarves all laugh and clap on his back. The nug loses, like the thought it would, but he doesn't give up. Before they start the next match, Garret jumps over the pen fence and crouches down in front of the shivering pink animal.
He leans in conspiriously and whispers, "Listen, little buddy. You remind me of my little brother- Carver. Can I call you that? Carver? Still. Are you gonna let these guys push you around like this? Come on, Carver, you always had more spite than that." The nug shrinks away, and Garret wonders if his breath stinks. It probably does. Like ale, he guesses.
He crawls out of the nug pen, and gives the referee a thumbs up. The dwarves are all laughing, but Garret clutches the railing so hard his knuckles turn white.
His nug comes in second to last, that time, instead of trailing so far behind the others that the ref stops the game before it crosses the finish line. It's a huge victory in Garret's book, so he shouts and jumps around and punches the air like someone who just won a hundred gold instead of someone who came in second to last in a nug race.
When Garret wakes up the next morning sprawled across his bed at the inn, there's a tiny nug curled up sleeping on his chest, and he has absolutely no idea how it got there.
-0-
"There you are. I talked to the Deep Road guards yesterday, and- Hawke." Nathaniel cuts himself off when he sees what Garret has brought to breakfast with him, bundled up in his arms. "Hawke, why do you have a nug?"
Garret shakes his head and shrugs, careful not to let the movement jostle the sleeping nug too much. "I'm not entirely sure. I was at the nug races yesterday."
Nathaniel stares. "How does being at the nug races equal you coming to breakfast with a nug in a blanket? Last time I checked, the nugs aren't exactly handed out as party favors after the races are over."
Garret shrugs again, and looks around for a menu. Nathaniel slowly hands him a polished rock slab he had been looking at when Garret walked in. Words and pictures are neatly carved into it's surface, and Garret realizes belatedly that it's one of the inn's menus.
As he's looking down the list, the only waitress comes up to their table. Nathaniel looks like he's about to shush her or send her away as he's obviously still waiting for an answer about the nug, but she pipes up first; voice as bouncy as her hair curls.
"I see you have a nug there, sir! It's a bit smaller than the ones we serve here, but if you'd like I can have it cooked and served for a reduced price!" She claps her hands together and smiles blindingly.
Garret stares at her, mouth gaping. Even Nathaniel looks startled. A small squeak comes from the bundle in Garret's arms, and they look to it in unison. The nug pokes its head from the blankets and looks up at the waitress before squeaking again.
Garret nearly shrieks, and hurriedly covers his nug with the blanket as if she's going to reach out and snatch it from him if she sees it. "No, no, absolutely not, this is Carver. I named him last night. I'm not eating Carver."
Nathaniel puts his head in his hands, and the waitress look at him strangely before giggling. "Well, alright then, sir. What can I get you?"
They order, and when she leaves Nathaniel looks back up at him through the cracks between his fingers. "Hawke, why do you have that nug?"
Garret shrugs for a third time that morning. "I have no idea."
-0-
Nathaniel has them return to their room, and starts packing his things up.
Garret follows suit, even though he doesn't know what they're doing. When he voices the question, Nathaniel stares at him for a moment before starting.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot with all the... nug business, earlier. I talked to the Deep Roads guards yesterday, and they definitely saw Anders. A week ago." Nathaniel mutters darkly.
Garret's skin crawls. "He... went into the Deep Roads? By himself?" He whispers.
Nathaniel nods. "That's what they said." He stands up and taps his fingers against the wall. "We're going after him, are we not? At least... at least maybe we could. We could find his body."
Garret nods slowly, worrying his bottom lip.
They resume packing their things in silence, and it doesn't take them long. Garret finds that Carver the Nug is small enough to fit in the back of his large fur collar, and thus the nug gains a new home. Nathaniel asks incredulously if he's really intending to bring a nug into the Deep Roads, and Garret promises that Carver the Nug won't get hurt. Nathaniel looks at him strangely for a moment before sighing and shaking his head, muttering something about Anders and 'Sir's' pouncing alot.
Garret tries to decode that in his head to anything that makes sense, but gives up quickly.
Their first order of business is to head to the Shaperate, and see if they can find some maps. Neither of them have been in the Diamond Quarter yet. The dwarves insist that the gap between their classes is getting smaller under King Harrowmont's reign, but Garret can't see it. Walking into the Diamond Quarter, Garret thinks, is like walking into a whole other city. The differences are staggering. The buildings are larger, grander. The dwarves on the street are wearing lavish colors with shining gold and silver trims and he's sure he sees one woman walk by in furs.
Most of the dwarves stare at them as they pass by. They've had a king on the throne for years now, but apparently Orzammar is much still a closed community. Garret wonders how many humans walk it's halls yearly. Two? Three? Surely, he thinks with a soft snort and chuckle, not more than four.
Nathaniel gives him a look, but Garret ignores it.
An overhanging bell dings as they slip into the Shaperate chamber. A wrinkled old dwarf resting at the counter looks up slowly, meeting their eyes easily.
Acquiring the maps is a sticky business. The old dwarf assures them that, yes, he does keep records and maps of recorded areas of the Deep Roads. "The only problem", he says, "Is young adventurers like yourselves taking copies and then dying with them. It's an inconvenience for all of us, really. Paper is a luxury down here, you know."
It's Nathaniel that comes up with the solution. If they provide their own paper, the Shaper will allow them to sit down and copy the maps on their own.
It's not hard to find enough paper, but it isn't easy either. They have to criss cross and split up over town, searching every merchant booth and building alike. The paper they do find is ridiculously overpriced from what it sells for on the surface, but Garret isn't exactly wanting of coin anymore.
When they return to the Shaperate, the old dwarf leads them to a bare table in the back. He sits them down and brings out the maps moments later, handling them with a care and reverie that makes Garret glad they're making their own. He'd feel very guilty if he'd have to return those maps to the Shaper torn, he knows. There's already a small tear near the top, and when he asks, the Shaper shakes his head angrily, face turning a shade of purple before launching into an angry speel. He talks so fast that Garret has trouble understanding half the words he's spitting, but he can gather the gist of it. Apparently, the Warden Commander ripped his maps. Garret almost laughs. It's a close thing.
They get to work immediately. Nathaniel's tongue unconsciously sticks out a bit while he works, just like Carver's used to. Garret's snickering to himself while copying a colored square onto his map when Nathaniel rips the quill out of his hand.
"Hawke, what is that?" Nathaniel groans, and points harshly at Garret's workspace.
Garret blinks, and looks down at his map. It looks fine. "What?"
"That looks like a three year old's scrawling! How are we supposed to read that in the bowels of the Deep Roads?!"
"Hey! It does not look that bad!" Garret struggles to keep his face straight, but he knows a bit of a grin cracks through. "It's at least a seven year old's. Give me some credit!" He squints at his paper, then looks to Nathaniel's for comparison. "Well, you copied alot of the smaller stuff. All those details are clogging and hard to read."
Nathaniel puts his head in his hands and hisses with the air of a long-suffering mother whose child has disappointed her again and again. "It's the details that are important, Hawke!" He flips Garret's paper over and pulls everything to his side of the table. "Forget it, I'll copy it all. Go make yourself useful."
The shouting wakes Carver the Nug. He squirms in the back of Garret's collar, and manages to right himself and give a loud squeak. Garret shoots Nathaniel an exaggerated frown, and stands up. "I hear you, little buddy. Let's go do something else, without mean people."
And Garret struts straight through the Shaperate and out the door.
-0-
Nathaniel meets him around two hours later in front of the Deep Roads entrance. Garret's been waiting for him here almost since he left, with little other ideas of what to do. Nathaniel says little to him, but passes Garret a copy of the maps.
When they pass by the guards and take their first steps into the Deep Roads, Nathaniel stops. Garret's about to ask what's wrong when Nathaniel speaks.
"Hawke, can you promise me that nothing I tell you here will ever leave your mouth?" He says evenly with no tone or emotion to the words.
Garret tries to think of what Nathaniel might tell him, but comes up blank. So, he nods and says, "I promise." It's a promise he intends to keep, whatever the man says.
They stand across from each other, far enough away from the entrance so that the guards won't be able to hear what Nathaniel has to say, but not deep enough in to warrant unwelcome company.
Nathaniel tells him about the Grey Wardens, and the Joining. He tells him about the nightmares, and the Archdemons and the darkspawn. But mostly, he tells Garret about the Calling.
Garret clenches one of his fists to his side, and the other to the hilt of his greatsword.
The Deep Roads are enormous and sprawling, but Garret decides that they're not big enough to stop him from finding Anders.
-0-
Once they encounter a single small group of darkspawn, they're suddenly everywhere. Garret feels like it's the start of his hunt for Anders all over again - he's got that same lost feeling, like he's looking for the needle in the haystack and the needle's been painted yellow.
Only now, they're under nonstop attack from darkspawn.
Garret knows that it's incredibly foolhardy, what they're doing. The idea of trekking into the Deep Roads with only two people (and a nug) seemed natural and obvious on the surface, or even in Orzammar, but now that Garret's gotten there he realizes how easily they could die. It won't stop him - or Nathaniel, he knows - but he's sure rethinking his morality. He remembers with stunning clarity, now, his last foray into the Deep Roads. They'd nearly died with a four man team, and they'd had a healer.
He can practically read the same thoughts flitting across Nathaniel's face, but all Garret has to do is think of Anders and he's steeled. He wonders if the hard determination he sees growing behind Nathaniel's eyes is cut from the same cloth. He wouldn't bet against it.
They sleep little, and badly when they do. Six hours total, three for each of them - if they can manage that much. It's not healthy, but neither is dying.
It's been at least four days; Garret's been counting. Four days, and still no sign of Anders.
No sign, at least, until they reach Orton Thaig.
It's small, and they'd almost missed it. Garret had only found it because there had been a few darkspawn corpses already littered there, a new sight. He'd poked around for a bit. The rotting bodies were almost like a trail of cookie crumbs - there had been two in plain sight, but if you angled yourself just right you could see another one off between another two buildings.
When Garret reached that corpse, he saw another one. And another, and another.
They follow the trail all across Orton Thaig. When Nathaniel looks at his map, he states with worry that they're heading in the direction of a wall. Garret wonders if he'll find Anders slumped against the cold stone of the cave, but says out loud that the trail will probably bend.
It doesn't.
The last corpse they find is leaned up on the cave's wall, an oddly large stretch of pure stone with no buildings or houses carved out of it. As far as they can see, the trail ends there. Garret can't find any other corpses in the area besides the ones they came from.
Nathaniel rationalizes that there must have just been a break in the darkspawn, and Anders had moved on somewhere else unattacked. Good for him, but bad for them, Garret says. Nathaniel nods in agreement.
They're about to move on to another Thaig when he notices it. It barely catches his eye, it's so small. Garret moves slowly, and comes up as close to the rock wall as he can. There.
Sticking out from behind the darkspawn corpse is a crack. It's not a small one, either. Garret wildly kicks the body out of the way, and leans down.
A cleaven, dark tunnel lays before him, small and low to the ground. It's probably just big enough for a man of his size to crawl through as long as he was on his stomach. Nathaniel pushes him out of the way to see, and a strange look overtakes his face; partway apprehension and partway excitement.
"You don't think..." Nathaniel trails off, voice barely a whisper.
It seems like a foolish idea. The last time he checked, Anders was at least marginally sane, and he's almost certain that one of the criteria for being sane has to be 'does not crawl into strange tunnels in the Deep Roads.' Really, Garret can't think of a single good thing that might come of a decision like that.
It seems like a foolish idea, so Garret leans down onto his stomach and pushes his head and shoulders into the hole. He hears Nathaniel groan behind him, but he inches forward as much as he can without going all the way in. He's never had a problem with small, cramped places, but even this is pushing it.
It's so dark he can barely see his arms and hands in front of his face, but something white is gleaming through the inky blackness ahead of him. He crawls forward, ignoring Nathaniel practically shouting his name in frustration behind him.
Laying innocently before him is a tiny white and grey feather. Garret picks it up gingerly between two fingers, careful not to break the quill or crush the feathers.
Crawling backwards as fast as he can go, Garret pops out of the hole and whips his arm up to show Nathaniel. He takes one look at it, and turns sallow. "Of course," Nathaniel says from between his teeth, "Why would I think Anders wouldn't crawl through the tiny darkspawn hole? Silly me, the two of you idiots must be a match made in hell."
-0-
They've only been crawling for around three minutes when Garret realizes two things -
One: The tunnel is very long. The fact that they've been in it for three whole minutes and he can't see anything but darkness on either side is terrifying. Three minutes doesn't seem like a long time at first, and if they were walking it wouldn't be, but crawling on their stomachs in a barely two foot high hole? Garret feels sick.
Two: Garret has no idea where they're going. Neither does Nathaniel, for that matter; he's been muttering almost nonstop since they started crawling.
Paper is crinkling behind Garret, too. A quick glance proves what he suspected; Nathaniel is trying to inch forward and read the maps at the same time. A soft orange light flickers all around them, and Garret really hopes that Nathaniel doesn't drop the match he's lit onto the maps.
"It just doesn't make any sense!" Nathaniel whispers, but Garret can hear him fine. Noise is magnified in the cramped tunnel. "Why isn't this on the maps?"
Garret does his best to shrug, shoulders bumping the walls. "Maybe nobody's been here before. It's not that surprising; they just found Orton Thaig a few years ago."
"That's not what I'm talking about. Even if nobody's found this tunnel, or it's new - it must lead somewhere. It has to. But where?!" Nathaniel hisses. Garret can hear the paper protest as Nathaniel turns it around again. "Which thaig does this connect to?!"
"Come on, Nathaniel. Calm down." Garret says as he pulls himself forward. "We'll find out when we get to the other side, alright?"
Nathaniel doesn't respond, but Garret can still hear the paper moving.
Carver the Nug squirms in Garret's collar and squeaks.
-0-
After what feels like hours, Garret spots a soft light up ahead and nearly cries with joy.
"Nathaniel! Nathaniel, I think I see something!" He starts to shout, but quiets down quickly when the volume makes him flinch.
"What? Is it another feather?!" Nathaniel asks quickly, voice tense.
Garret shakes his head. "No, no it's light! I think it's the exit!" He pounds the floor with his fist, and resumes crawling even faster than before.
He doesn't mention hearing Nathaniel whisper prayers to the Maker and Andraste. His voice is soft and wavering, so unlike the Nathaniel he's grown used to that it makes Garret's stomach roll. The orange light of Nathaniel's match goes out, and Garret can only assume he's smothered it.
Garret drags himself all the way out, and rolls out of the way to let Nathaniel follow. Carver the Nug hops out of his collar and pitters around, nose twitching. Garret can't do anything but lie on his back and enjoy the feeling of stretching his limbs out as far as they can go. He can tell that the room they've come out to is small, but it's not a tiny chiseled tunnel and for that he's eternally grateful.
Nathaniel chokes out a crooked laugh as he crawls out, rolling over much the same as Garret. They must look like a pair of idiots trying to make snow angels with no snow, Garret thinks.
"... Look. All around us-" Nathaniel starts, but Garret cuts him off with a giddy shout when he looks to the ground near them. Feathers are scattered everywhere, white and grey. Carver the Nug is jumping at one of them, the force of his small landings blowing the tiny feather far enough away to hop after it again.
Garret scrambles to his feet and scoops up the small animal. Tucking him back into the moderate safety of his collar, Garret finally looks around.
They aren't in so much of a room as a small cave. Garret sees a ratty cot out of the corner of his eye, and a makeshift table made from rocks is decorated with an empty bowl and a spoon. Garret's stomach twists. "Someone's been living here." He mutters, and Nathaniel nods in agreement. "Doesn't look like anyone's home right now, though."
They're both quiet as they look around, faces tight.
Garret breaks the silence with a scuff of his boots against the ground, and opens his mouth. "So, do we keep looking outside, or wait here?"
Nathaniel purses his mouth. "It's probably night, now. We could sleep here, and if he doesn't show up by the time we're ready to go - we keep looking."
Garret likes that idea.
He offers for watch first. Nathaniel readily accepts, and within minutes he's bundled up in the scratchy blanket he's brought, rolling over and facing the wall. Garret watches him for a moment, before putting his back to the wall himself and fixing his gaze on the open tunnel.
It's been exactly four years and one-hundred-and-sixty days since he's seen Anders.
It's around two and a half hours into Garret's watch when he hears it.
Soft scratching, like something dragging itself across the ground, echoes out of the tunnel. It goes on for what feels like hours.
Garret is illogically startled when he sees a pair of bandaged arms pop out of the tunnel, and even more so when they're followed by a head of dirty blond hair. Somehow, he hadn't- hadn't actually anticipated the reality of seeing Anders again. Every single muscle in his body feels pulled and tense, and he thinks his heart might be beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird.
Garret thinks, somewhat wildly, that it's been exactly zero seconds since he's seen Anders.
His mouth is hanging open but he can't remember how to make sounds, so he stands still and gapes. (Garret hadn't realized it at all until he looked straight at a living, breathing, coughing-with-tunnel-dust Anders, but a larger part of him than he'd known had been convinced he'd never see Anders again.)
Anders inches himself out of the tunnel, and Garret breathes out hot air instead of speaking as the mage looks up. Enormous black bags hang under his eyes, and his face is smudged and filthy.
Anders blinks at them. Garret blinks back. Anders opens his mouth, and closes it.
Garret glances at Nathaniel's sleeping form, and thinks shit. I should have woken him up. He looks at Anders and thinks of small animals that run away when you make sudden movements.
"Is-" Anders starts. "Is that Nathaniel?" He asks, voice tilting with a hysterical edge.
Garret still can't remember how to speak, so he nods.
Anders moans, and drops his head onto his knees. "No, no, no," He mutters madly, digging his fingers into his matted hair. Garret's nervous heart picks up even more with confusion and panic. Finally, manages to unfreeze himself and shakes Nathaniel awake.
Nathaniel takes one look at Anders and turns sallow. He turns towards Garret, faster than a viper, and hisses. "What did you do?"
Garret jerks out a whole body shrug, eyes wide. "I- I didn't say anything!" He croaks.
Nathaniel rolls his eyes in frustration, and surges forward. He crosses the room in a few long steps, and kneels down next to Anders' shaking form. "Hey- hey!" He grabs the mage's shoulder, squeezing tight. "Anders?"
Anders looks up at him, eyes wide and nearly unseeing. "No, no, no," He continues to chant, and rips his shoulder out of Nathaniel's grasp, and presses against his eyes with his knuckles.
Garret tries to inch closer to Anders, but nearly shouts when he feels the back of his collar squirm. Nug, he has to remember. He's got a nug in his jacket. They must have woken it up with the commotion. Carver the Nug yipps, and jumps down to the ground. Garret reaches out wildly to pull it back to him, but the nug deftly evades capture and trotts over to Anders.
Garret barely hears Nathaniel's, "What in the-" or the nug's small squeaks.
Anders lifts his head from his hands, and stares at the tiny pink animal in front of him. His muttering quiets down to nothing, face taking on a bewildered expression. Anders turns awkwardly to look at Nathaniel, still crouched on his right. "Is that a nug?" He asks, hoarse.
Nathaniel nods slowly without taking his eyes from Anders'. Anders looks to Garret. Garret nods, too.
"Why- why do you have a nug?" Anders asks.
"Well, you see, about that-" Garret says as Nathaniel deadpans, "He stole it."
"You stole a nug?" Anders goes back to staring at the nug. They all sit there, Anders staring at Carver the Nug and Nathaniel and Garret staring at Anders, until the mage looks back up at Garret. "Why am I hallucinating a nug?" He asks, voice cracking on the word 'nug.' "Why am I hallucinating you having a stolen nug?"
Nathaniel jolts in realization, and Garret blows out another breath of hot air. "No- Anders, we're- we're real. You're not hallucinating. We came to find you." He wants to speak slowly, but it all ends up tumbling out awkward and fast.
Anders cycles between looking at the three of them, Nathaniel to Garret to Carver the Nug, as if one of them is going to change their answer or say something else, until-
He drops over in a dead faint.
Nathaniel finally exhales.
"Shit." Garret says, to no one in particular.
-0-
They're nearing Orzammar's gate, and Garret's never been happier to smell the unique stench of dwarven ale in his life.
Garret is carrying Anders on his back, and Nathaniel is happily blowing off steam by sniping down any darkspawn that cross his vision. To make room for Anders, Nathaniel's got Garret's greatsword slung across his own back.
Anders must not weigh much more than their supply pack, he thinks. It's not a thought he likes. Anders is feather-weightless, but the portruding bones of his ribs dig into Garret's back. He doesn't like that thought, either.
His dirty blond head lulls next to Garret's ear, soft breath curling against his neck.
"Hawke," Nathaniel has stopped in front of them. There are no darkspawn left in a twenty mile radius, Garret is sure, but Nathaniel's bow is still out and he's fingering one of his arrows. "Are you going back to Kirkwall?" Nathaniel asks, voice uncharictaristically light. Garret's skin prickles with a wordless feeling of danger.
"I was thinking about going sightseeing in Antiva, actually." He matches Nathaniel's breezy tone easily. "Want to come?"
Nathaniel turns around, and fixes Garret with a calculating stare. Finally, he nods once- a short, jerky movement- and casually slips his bow onto his back over Garret's sword. "I remember Anders mentioning that he wanted to see Antiva himself, once." He remarks offhandedly, and that's that.
They'll decide properly when Anders wakes up.
-0-
AN: you would not believe how different this ended up from what i had planned? like? its
originally it was literally gonna be a crazy survival horror thing in the deep roads and i had hella puzzles and wacko shit planned out and sleeping old gods and then i just
scrapped everything