Anders had hunted for his freedom since he was twelve and first taken away from his home in chains by the Templars—he would forever burn with anger at the relief that came over his father's face at the sight of him bound in chains, and his heart would always ache as he remembered his mother's broken sobs as she attempted to clutch him close to her so the Templars didn't take him.
Each time he escaped, he was eventually caught and he was punished, each time before he took his Harrowing, he had feared that finally First Enchanter Irving had decided to listen to the Templars and brand him—trap him—as a Tranquil but he never did. And for that Anders was grateful.
The seventh time he had escaped had been just prior the chaos that Uldred had unleashed with his blood magic—though he mourned the passing of Mr Wiggums, he would forever treasure the memory of that possessed cat taking down three Templars—and that had been the longest time it took for them to track him down as the Blight and Uldred had made the Templars too busy to bother with one rebellious mage.
But they found him, they always did—damn phylacteries—and this time they had stopped at Vigil's Keep.
Anders still wasn't sure if that was the best decision that the Templars made involving him or not as that led them to meeting the Warden-Commander—the Hero of Fereldan and also future Queen.
He would always remember turning to her and that knight-girl, how he lamely protested that he hadn't killed the Templars though he doubted that she would believe him—they never believed the word of a mage—as her bright blue eyes surveyed the room, the broken bodies of the Templars and the burnt bodies of the Darkspawn before they suddenly pierced his gaze with a sharpness that reminded him that this woman had taken on and killed an Arch-Demon and lived to tell the tale.
She didn't attempt to kill him, didn't look like she cared if he had actually killed the Templars or not—the masked indifference of a noble-born easy to see—and had only requested that he helped her clear the Keep and save those that were still alive.
She had been a marvel to see fighting, a red-steel dagger crackled with lightening in one hand and in the other a red-steel sword was bathed in flames, and she dispatched the Darkspawn with ease and an almost feral ruthlessness. She almost seemed aware of their every move and gracefully dodged most of the attacks despite her heavy bronze armour—later he would learn that it was made out a High Dragon that she had killed—and let other harmless blows attempt to pierce her thick armour.
This was the skill and the might of a Grey Warden, and Anders could admit to being in awe.
Sooner then he thought possible, given how many Darkspawn had attacked the Keep, the battle was over and the King had arrived with the Templar, Rylock, in tow and a few guards.
Anders had seen the affection in the King's golden brown eyes as he rolled them when the Warden-Commander, Elissa Cousland/Theirin, had almost teasingly knelt before him and realised with a start that the rumours that they actually loved each other—something that the previous King and Queen couldn't claim—as Alistair reached out with one armoured hand and helped her to her feet was true.
There had been a softness to her face that hadn't been there before and only hinted at when she recognised the dwarf, Oghern, and Anders had personally thought that look suited her.
Armoured fingers linked as well as they could as they discussed what had happened before Rylock interrupted and announced that she wanted Anders arrested for killing the Templars and Anders knew that meant his death.
Elissa had coolly raised an eyebrow when Alistair, humorously, believed the 'dangerous criminal' was Oghern before Anders spoke up—Anders had noticed the sharpness to the king's eyes and figured that he had been playing the fool.
"Is there anything you like to add, Warden-Commander?" Alistair had asked and Anders was half-sure that Elissa had rolled her eyes at her husband before she calmly stated that she invoked the Right of Conscription and Anders had to become a Grey Warden.
Rylock had attempted to deny it and had almost had a fit when she didn't get her way—perhaps she thought she could sway the king as it was common knowledge that he had once trained to be a Templar.
Anders hadn't been sure if he should be happy or not that he was being drafted into the Grey Wardens especially when the Joining ritual had been revealed.
But he had taken the silver chalice and raised it to his lips under Elissa's blue gaze. He would later feel embarrassed that he passed out when Oghern hadn't though she didn't let him feel like that for long.
He had woken up on a thin coat that had been set up in the throne room of the Keep and had blearily looked around and saw Elissa and Oghern talking in soft tones—something he would never believe of the loud mouth dwarf.
Elissa looked different out of her armour, smaller and less bigger-than-life like her tales had made her out to be, her dark hair out of the single ponytail and framed her face as she frowned thoughtfully at whatever Oghern was telling her.
She must have felt his gaze on him as her eyes flickered away from the red-haired dwarf and towards him, a shadow of worry easing as she saw him awake and relatively alert.
"I think I saw a few barrels of ale as we were clearing out the Keep," Elissa told Oghern, whose eyes gleamed, and he barely said goodbye to her as he sped towards where he knew the ale was kept. "Some things will never change."
She walked towards, grace in every step, and she looked the part of a noble daughter though she was dressed casually in a tunic and leggings and settled herself on the edge of the cot.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I can't believe I passed out," he groaned as he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"When I undertook the Joining, I passed out," she told him easily and he peeked up at her. "I think Oghern is the only one that has never passed out during the Joining and I think that says more about his drinking than anything else."
"You're not what I expected," Anders admitted which made her lips quirk in a smile.
"I never am," she seemed proud of that fact. "I wouldn't have done half the things I did in the last year if I was what people expected."
"True," Anders considered the fact that it had been a Noble's daughter that had fought Darkspawn and ended the Blight—all the Noble daughters that he had ever met didn't know how to handle a sword besides from the fact that they shouldn't hold the sharp pointy end.
But Elissa wielded her dagger and sword with an ease that spoke of years of training.
She never gave up her dagger and sword though she was presented with new ones made out of Dragon-bone.
"This was Duncan's," she told him one night as they camped off the road on the way to the Black Marshes and he had been absently playing with Ser-Pounce-a-lot—she had given him the kitten before they left the Keep and though she said he could leave him at the Keep if Anders wanted too, he had taken the kitten with him. "He saved my life and got me to join the Wardens."
Like many Fereldan Wardens, this Duncan was dead and gone as he had most likely died at Ostagar.
She carefully sheathed the dagger and then drew the sword and carefully placed it across her lap—the fire enchantment not burning her at all.
"This was King Maric's," she told him and he gave the sword a long look—so that was the sword of the Great King Maric. "We rescued it from Ostagar as well as Duncan's things when we found them long after the battle."
"Alistair wielded Duncan's sword before I got him Starfang," she told him as she sheathed the sword and rested it beside her. "Duncan was more of a father to him then Maric ever was, so I wielded it in honour of Cailan—he wanted to end the Blight with his father's sword so I did it for him."
Anders realised that just because the sword once belonged to the King, a man that she could have claimed as a father-in-law, that wasn't why she had wielded it and refused to give it up. She wielded in honour for Cailan, a young King that had died with his men and had earned her respect.
Elissa hadn't been what Anders had expected of the Hero of Fereldan and future Queen. She fought with her men and didn't attempt to lead them from safety—she was always in the thick of things—and was surprisingly merciful as she spared the farmer Alec by making him a soldier and gave a deserting soldier's family safety in the Keep's walls and spared her the noose.
She had personally paid for the upgrades of the Keep and had been the one to find all the ore to make the shining armour of the Silver Order.
She had taken on quests, requests and such as well as listening to the complaints of the people and solved problems for them. Anders frankly didn't know when she had time to sleep as she seemed to be always up and going.
She had spared Nathaniel Howe, the son of the man that had betrayed and killed her family, and had spared Velanna despite the fact that the elven woman had been killing humans in her rage and grief over the loss of her sister. She hadn't been repulsed by Justice's presence though she had quietly asked both Velanna and himself if there was a way to stop Kristoff's body rotting with the vaguest hint of disgust on her face that had to do with the smell of a rotting corpse and not the presences of the Spirit itself.
She listened to each of them and didn't judge them, challenged their thoughts—though that was mostly towards Velanna—and supported them in their personally challenges.
After the battle, after she had gone back to her husband and finally crowned Queen, after that damn Templar joined the Wardens and made his new home almost unbearable to be in, after he agreed to host Justice, after he killed both Templars and Wardens in his rage and after he ran, he was found.
A red-head one day appeared suddenly beside him as he waited for a ship to Kirkwall and he had to reframe from setting her on fire as she smiled welcoming up at him with kind and yet distance blue eyes—a Chantry amulet hung around her neck.
"From a mutual friend," she told him as she placed a letter and a heavy bag of coins in his startled hands before she left and blended into the crowd around them like she hadn't been there.
Be safe, take care of each other. I'll try to keep the Wardens off your back.
Was all the letter said but he knew who it was from. Much later when he was carefully looking into the pouch of coins, he had to laugh as a tiny kitten figurine had been secreted in it with a small tag around its neck that read Fredrick—a name he had thrown out when Nathaniel had spoken to him about Ser-Pounce-a-lot's name and he hadn't realised that she had been listening nor that she bothered to remember at all.
When Anders met the eyes of one Marian Hawke, he knew she was trouble. She had the same gaze as Elissa, determined and fierce, sharp and focused, though her eyes were amber-gold and not the bright blue that Elissa's was.
And yet, he found himself helping her after she attempted to help him. He found himself caring for her, falling for her, as she didn't flinch away from him when he told her about Justice, didn't show a hint of disgust and had even flirted with him.
She wasn't a mage and yet she helped him save them as much as possible, done things for them that he never would have expected a non-mage to do.
And he loved her, no matter how much Justice disagreed, and loved her despite knowing that he would one day break her heart. She would have shouted to the world that she loved him, an apostate, and wouldn't have cared.
When Anders finally packed his things to move in with Hawke, he found a letter that he knew hadn't been there early.
I'm glad you've found your pretty girl.
That was all it said, one simple sentence but he couldn't help the large grin that spread across his face.
Elissa was still watching over him, still doing her best to protect him despite them being in two different kingdoms, and the fact that she was Queen. Best of all, she approved of Hawke, his friend approved of his lover.