Or... How Anders and Others Deal With His Condition.
Or... That Obligatory Tranquil Fic We All Must Write.
(The theme for this fic was a request).
So this is how we begin. I'll try not to dwell on the obvious things because that's boring and because Ander's Tranquility is not the big twist on this one, so the focus will mostly be on how the world develops around a man that's not the apostate swimming across lakes nor the Warden nor the "abomination". Let me know if you see any mistakes here, please. As always, apologies for my English.
Serah-pounce-a-bell . tumblr . com
Mirror Maze
…
U N O : O N U
...
It was a silent night at the Clinic, with no darktowners staying overnight and only the scratch Anders made while writing his Manifesto could be heard. Delaying having to buy candles soon, the only light source he had was a little ball of magelight, shedding its blue glow over his papers. He had to finish at least three more pages before considering the idea of sleep.
The mage was tired.
He'd been tired for years.
Tired of being feared for existing (he could give them quite a few reasons to fear him, truly), tired of walls, of being shunned, of being a sin, of his loneliness, of crying for Karl, of hiding. Tired of Templars.
Merely thinking of them fueled him, them, to write faster, to work harder.
An entire chapter got done before the sun rose. He would need to get more ink soon too. Or he could write with the blood of fallen mages, rotting in the dark corners of the Circles where no one would dare to see, their screams ignored.
"Justice, please. Not now", while they couldn't speak to each other directly, how he needed to be able to do so, the spirit could place images on Anders' mind, most of them reminders of their cause. That night he lacked the strength to stomach some of his memories, though. Weak shoulders and eyelids fighting to close were signals enough for Justice, thankfully, and silence filled Anders' mind for once.
And then, knocks.
A series of loud and alarmed knocks against the door made him stand from his chair quickly, knees almost giving up in the process. Hawke, maybe? The rogue tended to appear to the strangest times but he also tended to avoid Anders since his mother's death and Merrill's convenient vanishing. Things had been complicated, at least, since the Templars had gotten to Bethany.
That day had been a dark one. They were all exhausted after their first and sadly not last taste of the Deep Roads (Anders has warned them enough) and the news reached a Garret too hurt and too tired to be ready for them. If only she wasn't a mage, if only he'd said over and over again over Avenline's shoulder. If only father hadn't been one… I'd still have a family…
Anders would be the last to blame him for his resentment.
"No herbalist after the light's gone!" he said, his emphasis on the world herbalist almost comical.
A sad "please" was all Anders could hear. Sleep numbed his better judgment.
The magelight vanished with a flick of his hand. Varric? Isabela? Not impossible but unlikely. Templars? Staff in hand, he opened the door slightly and whoever was at the other side pushed. Anders casted a fireball and kept it in hand, menacing and allowing him to see under the person's hood. He'd been right to guess Templars.
"Give me a reason not to burn your eyebrows while on your face again, Cullen" the mage spat, rage clear in his eyes.
Cullen, unsurprisingly, wasn't affected by Anders' threat and moved closer mumbling nonsense, his entire body shaking.
"Don't you dare give one more step, I mean it. And by the Maker make some sense, man!". The fireball in his hand increased in size and the reflection of its flames danced in Cullen's eyes, open enough to give them room to do so. The Templar carried the expression of those about to lose the entire world and that scared Anders more than anything at that moment.
Cullen stopped entirely and the mage realized how little and insignificant he seemed without his uniform, his figure covered by a dirty and thin cloak that did just as much to cover his identity as it did to protect him from the cold. Anders had to concentrate to hear his whispering voice. In the end, he was still the same fearful boy from the Circle. It was a fact, that some people just didn't change and other people changed too much.
"Bethany… Bethany Hawke… I need your help, you know how to get her out".
"What did you do to her?!"
"Nothing I swear!" Cullen screamed, "at least not yet. She'll be made Tranquil".
He froze, trying to control both his boiling anger and Justice from being seen by Cullen, keep it down, let him finish. Cullen continued in the mage's silence.
"Meredith thinks the Champion has too much power and needs a reminder. We must get his sister out before she gets to her".
"A reminder of what, exactly?"
"Of control, of power and of who really carries it".
"Then why not go to him directly?" An excuse, a reason, too convenient to go for the apostate in Darktown.
"The moment he puts but one foot in the Gallows, Bethany is a dead woman". He fell to his knees. "Please".
Anders laughed. And laughed. Slowly, a mere a rumble from his throat expresed with the utmost disdain. The Templar at the apostate feet begging for his help made quite the picture. He felt tempted to kick Cullen under his chin, just like he had seem too many times back at Kinloch Hold.
"How many", he spat, "how many mages have you had in your place? Asking for their own mercy? Maybe for someone else's?"
Cullen looked down, "too many".
"And how many times did you listen to them?"
"Not… Not even once", his voice broke and tears dripped from his eyes. Anders retreated, he was better than this, than them all.
Giving his back to the Templar, something he'd never done willingly, he grabbed his black coat and his staff along an old cloth that would do as a cloak with a little work. Thoughts racing, thinking of the best route Bethany could be sent to. Ferelden was the best option, if not the only one, there were trustworthy people on Amaranthine and Anders could take advantage of her relationship to the Amell family and the Commander, even if it meant sending his head head back on a silver plate to the Wardens of the Grey.
But first…
Cullen did not move, still crying on the floor. His doglike whimpers reminded Anders of why he was a cat person. Anders' steps over wood resonated around the almost empty clinic while he got closer to the other man. Using the end of his staff, he forced Cullen to raise his head and look back at him.
"I said: stand up".
Once again, the man refused to move, letting his tears fall over his staff. Face red and bloodshot eyes, disgusting.
"Is this what you felt when you had Surana finally at your feet before killing her?"
That seemed to do the trick. In less than a second, Anders had a furious Cullen towering over him, a considerable feat as Anders had always been taller.
"Don't you dare… Don't you dare bringing her into this!"
"Then, for the first time in you sad life, get a move on!", he screamed back, "we have a mage to help".
…
...
The way to the Gallows was not a quiet as Cullen wanted nor as Anders expected it to be, surprising himself by how talkative he was feeling that night. When Anders thought it was safe to do so, he spoke of old tales from the Hold, from that one time he tried to scape by swimming across Lake Calenhad, that other time Karl created a spell made for the sole reason of hiding the hickeys they left one another. And that one time he turned Cullen's eyebrows pink. No amount of nervousness could stop Cullen's indignation.
"That was you?"
"It was always me, Cullen".
While they decidedly avoided making eye contact, the mage and the Templar walked side to side. Sweat running cold over his back. It felt familiar to Anders, maybe a little bit too much. He supposed it made sense, with Cullen being the only connection to a man he was no more. Justice grumbled, sending waves of frustration and, unexpectedly, sadness.
"Why now?" Anders asked. "Why not get to Bethany before? What are you Templars waiting for?"
"Damned if I know. Meredith's acting… just plain weird lately. Won't consult anyone before acting, won't trust in anyone but herself and-… I've said too much".
"Have you?" Anders inquired with a sing-song voice, "Meredith being crazy sounds like every day's news to me".
'Meredith being crazy' was everything Anders heard from the Mage Underground and his contacts everyday of every week of every month… It worried him to no end; Cullen did not have to know any of that, though.
"You haven't changed at all", Cullen said, "while I can't remember who I was".
Anders almost stopped walking altogether.
They didn't speak a word afterwards.
…