In celebration of the upcoming 3 year anniversary of Pain of Lyrium, I have re-uploaded a "Redux" version, which has replaced the old version. This version fixes up some plot points/holes and tidies up grammar and the overall writing. The story will also be hosted on Ao3. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the original- this story couldn't have been completed without those words of encouragement.
Chapter 1
Anders didn't even keep track of the date anymore, nor how long they had been on the run. Hawke however knew how many weeks it had been since they left Kirkwall down to the day. That made Anders worry that Hawke didn't want to be here, and that perhaps he would be happier back in Kirkwall. In Kirkwall, Hawke was a hero. Here he was nobody. Anders wasn't even sure where 'here' was. It was hot and it was dry and they were squatting in an old house on the outskirts of some backwater town.
"I like it here," Hawke had said when they arrived, "It's got a real nice…charm to it."
Of course he had been sarcastic, but Anders felt that perhaps he wasn't completely joking. After all, Hawke was from a town quite similar to the one they found themselves in now.
The sun was dipping beneath the horizon when they decided that they would make the abandoned home their own for the night. Anders lit a fire in the hearth that began to drive the loneliness out of the cottage. And as he began to cook some food over the cheery fire, the place started to feel quite cosy. As Anders heated their meagre meal over the fire, he noticed Hawke was sitting on the step outside, looking up at the stars.
"What's wrong, love?" Anders asked as he sat down beside him, knowing something was on the Champion's mind.
"You know, it's been six months since we left Kirkwall today," he said with a sigh, "And one since Arry died."
Arry was Hawke's Mabari who had come with his family all the way from Lothering. Hawke had been distraught when the dog died. Anders didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't been there to comfort him. Arry had been Hawke's last little piece of home, and now that was gone. Anders had to keep a close eye on Hawke afterwards. He was worried that he might turn to blood magic again. Years ago, Hawke had made a deal with a desire demon named Dreamweaver to grant him powers in order to defeat the Arishok. Hawke had managed to kill and hence free himself from the demon with Anders' help after he realised the dangers of blood magic. He had never been the same since, but he always kept his head held high and was ready with a joking comment for everything. But tonight, Hawke seemed depressed and he wasn't even trying to hide it. Anders gazed at Hawke, noticing how his once quick-to-smile face was now lined with stress and age.
"I'm so sorry Hawke. The only reason you're not in Kirkwall is me. I had to leave, and you came with me. If it wasn't for me, you could still be there, with Aveline and Merrill and Varric."
"No, Anders, don't blame yourself. I want to be here with you. Wherever you are is my home now."
Anders grabbed Hawke and kissed him. Hawke responded eagerly.
"I'm glad you're here, Hawke," Anders said afterwards, "I don't know how I would have made it if you weren't."
"We're both pretty broken and it's probably going to take lot to fix us up," Hawke joked with his characteristic smile returning, "But together, we'll get there I'm sure.
Lying next to Hawke in bed that night, Anders continued to think. And despite what Hawke said, he couldn't shake the guilt. Hawke could have had everything. Even when he had made terrible decisions, Hawke stayed by his side. Anders had tried to be there for Hawke as well. Especially when a rather brazen Hawke got injured on the battlefield- which happened more often than Anders would like. But in the end he would always be okay. But now, Anders could never be sure that they were going to be okay. Hawke had no status to hide behind. Nothing could save him now if the Templars came after them. And everyday Anders had to deal with the constant fear that they weren't running fast enough or far enough. Just the thought of it all made him shiver under the sheets.
"Anders, aren't you asleep yet?" Hawke mumbled.
"No. I can't."
Hawke moved closer to Anders and held him in his strong arms.
"I'm not singing a lullaby so this better be enough,"
Anders chuckled. He felt safe next to Hawke. And as he listened to Hawke's steady heartbeat, he drifted off to sleep.
Anders woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the window on to his face. He rolled over to say good morning to Hawke but there was no one beside him. Anders bolted upright and scanned the house for his lover. He relaxed when he saw a note pinned to the door. He got up and read the note
Gone into town to buy some food becausesomeoneforgot to buy some more the other day.
Anders usually liked to accompany Hawke on such trips and felt a little worried that he was there by himself. Anders realised he was always worrying about Hawke, even though he was more than capable of looking after himself. In fact, Anders knew that Hawke was better at looking after himself than he was. The whole disaster with Justice didn't make things easy for him. Anders exhaled deeply. Hawke would be fine, he thought. Nothing had happened in six months, and it certainly wasn't going to happen now.
Hawke strode cheerily into the town, even though it was a fairly desolate place. It reminded him a little of Lothering, and that made him both sad and a little happy. Though unlike Lothering, everyone here seemed stiff lipped and untrusting. He could feel the surveying eyes of the locals as he made his way to the trader. They knew a foreigner when they saw one. Hawke hoped they didn't identify as one particular foreigner- the Champion. Hawke brushed off the possibility. No one in the town would have seen him before, and even if someone had, he looked different to what he had six month ago. His beard, though still the same in size, was a lot rougher and messily cut. His hair, once immaculately cared for, was now mattered with knots and hung at shoulder length, though Hawke had now gotten into the habit of tying it back with a red ribbon. He also guessed he looked a bit scruffier than he did in Kirkwall. Hawke found the town's trader and went inside. A small bell attached to the door chimed at his entrance.
"Morning," Hawke said to the storekeeper with a nod. The storekeeper looked a fair bit friendlier than the people outside.
"Good morning sir," he replied. As Hawke went about choosing food for him and Anders, he noticed the storekeeper watch him keenly, and almost a little suspiciously.
"You're not from around here, aren't you?"
"No," Hawke said politely but firmly, "Just passing through."
"Where you heading?"
Hawke grew annoyed at the shopkeeper's insistent questions.
"I'm visiting family in Orlais," Hawke lied quickly. Hawke regretted his choice. Orlais! Of all places, Orlais!
"Ah," the man said, seemingly satisfied. Hawke's annoyance subsided. Folk from towns such as this were often curious of outsiders. As Hawke went to pay, an idea lit up in the man's eyes.
"If you're visiting family, how about a wonderful handmade gift!"
He gestured to a small rack of carved necklaces and bracelets on the counter. It looked like they were carved from some from some sort of deer or halla horn. Hawke was about to decline when one caught his eye,
"How much for the cat pendant?"
"Fifty silver."
Hawke smiled. Anders loved cats, but was often disheartened at the fact he would probably not own one again, at least for a while. Hawke hoped that the necklace would cheer him up. He handed over the money for the supplies, and an extra fifty for the pendant. It was a beautiful little thing with intricate detail on the face. The shopkeeper thanked Hawke for his purchase as Hawke stepped back outside into the bright morning sun. He blinked at the sudden change of light, but quickly realised something was wrong as his eyes adjusted. The townsfolk that had been going about doing their daily business had all disappeared. The only people left on the street were a group of armed men standing in a semi-circle outside of the store.
Templars.
Hawke thought he might be able to bluff his way out of the situation, though he got ready to grab his hidden staff at any moment.
"What can I do for you Templars?" Hawke said in a cheery voice.
"Don't think you can lie your way out of this one Champion," the leader of the group said, his voice muffled through his helmet.
"Champion? Oh no, you've obviously got me confused with someone else. I'm definitely a lot more attractive than the Champion."
The Templars drew their swords and began advancing slowly on Hawke.
"Ah well. It was worth a try."
Hawke dropped the supplies and pulled the collapsed staff from his belt. A mage had altered his staff before leaving Kirkwall so that the shaft could be collapsed into itself to make for easier concealment. When Hawke pressed a button near the figure at the top, the wooden shaft expanded back to full size. Hawke did so now and slammed the butt of the staff onto the ground in front of him, sending a wave of magic forward that made the Templars stumble backwards. Hawke began his characteristic sequence of spins and flourishes that shot bursts of lightening and flame at the Templars. Hawke's speed caught on off them off guard and his attack sent the Templars flying backward. However, the rest deflected the attacks on magic resistant shields. Hawke felt his hand itch for his blood magic knife, but he had promised Anders that he would give the dangerous practise up. But the Templars were good at lyrium suppression and Hawke could feel his powers waning as they began to take away his power. He knew that he might not have a choice. He grabbed the carved blade from his belt and slashed it across his arm, leaving a thin red line that began to seep warm blood. Hawke felt his supressed blood powers begin to resurface. Of course, without his old bond to the desire demon his blood magic was no where near as powerful as it once had been. His attacks quickly gained strength though it sapped his energy to do so. Hawke heard shuffling behind him but before he could react he felt the butt of a sword slammed into his temple. It didn't knock him out but it made him sag to the ground. The Templar placed his sword on Hawke's neck.
"Don't move, maleficar," he snarled. Hawke began to prepare his blood magic again but before he could the sword was brought down against his head again, and this time rendered him unconscious.
It was mid-afternoon when Anders began to worry. Hawke had been gone half the day and every second that passed grated on Anders' nerves. He had been pacing up and down the little cabin, checking out the window every few seconds hoping to see Hawke's figure striding back. But he had not seen such a figure yet.
"That's it," he said out loud to no one in particular. He grabbed his disguised staff and started heading for the town with a nervous feeling in his stomach.
It didn't take Anders long to find the trader and the signs of a scuffle were obvious. Blood was splattered over the ground and Anders felt sick when he realised it could be Hawke's. He saw a nearby villager surveying the scene as well.
"What happened here?" Anders asked.
"These Templars turned up out of nowhere and ambushed this mage as he came out of the shop. Serves him right too. He was a filthy blood mage."
"Did they kill him?" Anders inquired, trying to stop his voice from breaking.
"No. They threw him in some carriage and headed off south. Probably heading to Fort Dival. There's a big Templar encampment there. Heard that the ones there are particularly brutal. That mage will get what he deserves."
Anders couldn't say anymore. He just nodded and the villager walked off. His hands began shaking as he realised he was alone again. He could feel Justice starting to rise up inside him.
"No…" he said under his breath, "Not here, not now."
Anders knew the townsfolk would show him no mercy if Justice reared his head. He breathed in deeply. Anders noticed the basket that Hawke had discarded at the beginning of the battle. Something sitting on top caught Anders eye. He walked over and picked up the pendant, though now it was stained with blood. Emotions came flooding through as Anders held the little cat pendant in his hands as he realised Hawke had spent the little money he had on a gift for him. Anders closed his fingers over the pendant.
"I'll find you, love. Don't you worry."
