Healing the Healer
Chapter 1: Body
Alana Hawke stared at the scene around her, scarcely able to understand. The Templars were all dead, including the hated Ser Alrik; but the mage girl they'd saved from him was now running for Darktown, scared out of her mind. And somewhere else in the tunnels was a very shocked and confused Anders. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Aveline. The Guard Captain looked very angry, and Alana knew why. "You still want to defend him, Hawke?" she asked coldly. "He's a monster."
"It was Justice, not Anders. He was able to stop," she argued softly. Though she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Aveline, or herself.
"Only because of you," Varric countered, shaking his head. "Look, I know Blondie means well, Hawke, but this…" He looked around, petting Bianca. "This is pure madness. Is this why mages are feared?"
"Partially," she said with a sigh. "It's why Templars are so obsessed with finding blood mages. A spirit bound into a living body is a powerful force, and none of us are completely immune."
"Somehow, I doubt you'd ever make a deal with a spirit, demon or not," Aveline argued. "But Anders-"
"Stop, please," she begged, shaking her head. "I was here, I saw what happened. I don't like it any more than you do."
"But I'm not the one who loves that idiot." Alana suddenly regretted telling the redhead that little bit of information.
"No, you aren't. I'll talk to him, Aveline. I need to find out what happened. Why he lost control like that. Even when we met his friend Karl, there wasn't so much… Blind hatred in him."
"We'd best get back, then," Varric told them, starting to walk away. "Before Blondie does anything else he might regret." The two women nodded and followed the dwarf, Alana clutching her staff tightly and wondering how she could fix this.
There had been no sign of Anders, either at the clinic, or around the group's usual haunts. Alana was heading back home, worried beyond belief about the man she loved. A chill wind swept down the empty streets, and she pulled her cloak closed around her. Dark clouds were gathering in the sky, and she knew it was going to rain soon. She hated rain, as it was cold, wet, and messed with her fire magick. Reaching the front door of the estate, she heard the first drops start to fall on the rooftops, and breathed a sigh of relief that she had made it back in time. Inside, her mother was sitting in a chair by the fire, and she walked over as her daughter came in. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" Leandra asked. "You look worried."
"There was a bit of trouble in Darktown tonight, Mother. Nothing you need to concern yourself over."
"Darktown? Are you visiting that mage boy again?"
"Yes Mother, it's no secret that we're friends." She hadn't yet told her mother that she wanted it to go beyond that stage, but some things needed to remain private.
"But sweetie, he's an apostate-"
"So am I," Alana reminded the older woman. "So were Bethany and Father. I choose to help him in what he does, Mother. I worry about him."
"But you're nobility now," Leandra argued gently. "You have something to protect you from the Templars."
"Nothing could protect me if the Knight Commander broke down our door and ordered me put into the Circle," Alana shot back, eyes narrowing. "Mages have no rights, and being a noble doesn't matter. If you can do magick, you must be locked up."
"I didn't mean-" She pulled her mother into a hug, silently berating herself for the outburst. Maybe Anders was having more of an effect on her than she thought.
"Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that that's what you feel. You loved all of us, apostates or not."
"I just don't want to see you get hurt. Your father and I were lucky. Most apostates are eventually found and… Dealt it."
"I know the risks. Besides, I'm a big girl, Mother. I can look out for myself." Leandra smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead.
"I know you can, but I still worry. It's my job as a mother, and you're the only one I can still do that for. But now that you're safe at home, I can sleep peacefully. Good night, dear." Alana watched her mother head upstairs, and then sat down in the chair by the fire. She watched the flames for a moment, grinning as she extended her arm and called a bit of them to her. A ball of flame collected on her hand, and she watched it flicker, transfixed by the glow and warmth it gave off. What seemed like a moment later, she opened her eyes to see that the fire was nearly dead, and it was very late at night. Rubbing her temples, she stood and stretched, rotating her head to get the kink out of her neck. If Anders had been there he would've just- She stopped herself from finishing the thought, looking at her hands again. Truth be told, she envied how easily healing magick came to him. Even Bethany had been better at it than her. Alana was usually the one blowing things up, or charring an enemy. Using her magick to do the opposite was difficult for her, and she'd grown out of practice because Anders had always been there.
"By the Void, this is ridiculous," she said to herself. "Here I am a grown mage, and mad at myself for not knowing every school of magick like the back of my hand. It's not like I'll ever really need to use it, either." Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a scrape on her door, and Niko, her Mabari, went over and started whining softly at it. "What's the matter, boy?" Alana grabbed her staff and eased towards the door, slowly unlocking it. She poked her head out, seeing the steady rainfall past the overhang. Another wind whipped by, chilling her to the bone for a moment. "There's nothing-" And then she looked to her right, eyes widening. There was someone slumped in the corner, and she saw the familiar robes even in the dim light from the house. "Anders!" She was next to him a moment later, shaking his shoulder. He was soaking wet, shivering, with his eyes squeezed shut. How long had he been out here? Niko came outside; licking the ex-Warden's face a few times until he groggily came to.
"H-Hawke?" he wheezed, staring up at her. At least he was aware enough to recognize who was standing over him.
"Can you stand?"
"Hm?" He sounded very confused, and fear coursed through her.
"You're outside, Anders. In the rain. Can you stand and walk into the house?"
"Maybe?" His voice was soft, raspy, and tired-sounding. Niko nudged him again, getting under him, and Alana allowed Anders' body to drape over the hound as he walked into the house. Getting up the stairs proved slightly difficult, but they eventually made it into a guest room, and Anders flopped to the floor.
"Anders, please get up. You need to lie down," Alana told him, tugging on his arm. He opened one eye and looked up at her.
"I am," he said, now sounding grumpy.
"You're on the floor. That can't be comfortable."
"Says you."
"This is ridiculous," she said, more to herself. Planting her feet, she gave as hard a pull as possible, and Niko pushed from the other side. They got Anders up, but Alana teetered under his weight, and the two of them fell onto the bed. "This is not exactly what I had in mind…" She wriggled out from under him, and finally succeeded in getting him into a comfortable position. Now all she had to do was get him out of the wet clothes. She felt her cheeks flush as she pulled his cloak and shirt off, exposing his chest. He shivered again, but didn't open his eyes. His boots and pants came next, and Alana mentally congratulated herself for not running from the room in sheer embarrassment. When he was safely tucked into bed, she watched him for a moment. He was asleep, but was still shaking slightly, eyes twitching beneath his lids. Alana pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling the heat from it even beneath the chill the rain had left. "Oh Anders… Where did you go after Justice left? Why didn't you let me know you were outside?" She stroked his hair, but he remained asleep. Alana turned to the fireplace and called up a small amount of magick, igniting the wood inside. With the flames crackling and giving more heat to the room, she pulled a chair up next to the bed and took his hand, wishing there was more she could do.
Anders stirred slightly, wondering where he was. It was warm, so he wasn't in Darktown, and it was quiet, so the Hanged Man was also out. He opened his eyes, instantly regretting it as his vision swam and nausea poked at him. Curling on his side, he wrapped his arms around himself as shivers wracked his body. Maker, everything hurt, and he felt worse than he had since a Templar had "gotten rough" hauling him back to the Circle. A moment later though, he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and carefully opened one eye. Hawke was standing over him; worry bright in her eyes as she frowned. "Anders?"
"Hm?" He didn't trust himself to talk yet, but when his vision remained in focus, he opened his other eye.
"Are you okay?" The former Warden blinked at her a few times, like he didn't understand the question.
'She's worried about me? After what happened last night? She's not afraid or angry? Andraste's ashes, that might've been her I almost-' He stopped the thought there, shivering again, though this time in horror as the memories came back to him. All the control he'd fought so hard for, gone in an instant. And then he'd turned that same rage on an innocent girl… The very one he'd been trying to help.
"Anders," Hawke's voice snapped him back, and she rested a hand on his cheek. "Please answer me. I need to know what's wrong."
"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling like his throat was full of briars. "I nearly killed someone, and you need to ask me that?" He sat up before his mind could protest, but his body certainly knew that had been a bad idea. Once again his vision blurred into just blobs of color, and the nausea returned full force. He tried and failed to get out of the bed, and only succeeded in crashing to the floor, tangled up in the sheets. However, there was nothing left in his system to purge, and he lay there, chest heaving as his stomach finally calmed down. Arms were wrapped around him for a moment, and then he was lifted back into the bed, and a cool rag was placed over his forehead and eyes. That at least soothed some of the pain, to which he was grateful.
"You found him where?" There was a voice Anders didn't recognize right away. It was a woman, but not Aveline, and definitely not Merrill. Who could Hawke have let-
"He was outside, Mother, in the rain. I don't know how long he was out there, but when I found him he was soaked through. Niko and I barely managed to get him up here." Wonderful. Of all the people to see him in this state, the mother of the woman he had feelings for was here. And why shouldn't she have been? This was her house as well, and he hadn't exactly been quiet with that little show of stupidity. He groaned a bit, and then the rag was off his face, and he opened his eyes to stare at them. Hawke's mother looked equally as worried about him as his fellow apostate did, and all Anders wanted to do was find a rock in Darktown and crawl under it.
"Young man, do you know where you are?" Her voice was gentle, yet he knew she expected an answer, so he nodded. "Do you know how you got here?"
"I'd say I walked, but I don't remember," he answered honestly. Everything after the caverns had been a blur, and it wasn't because Justice had been in control, either. He'd allowed himself to get mentally turned around, and his body had probably just wandered Kirkwall until it got him to Hawke's doorstep.
"Why didn't you let me know you were there?" the young woman asked, a bit of hurt poking through her voice.
"Because I… I couldn't face you," he admitted, turning his head slightly so he wasn't looking at her. There was a heavy silence in the room for a few minutes.
"Mother, do you think you could-"
"I'll see about getting his clothes washed," Leandra said, picking up the still-sodden mess and walking out, closing the door behind her. She'd heard the warning tone in Alana's voice, which usually meant there was going to be an argument. When the two of them were alone in the room, Alana sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at Anders. He was silent, but she could see he was starting to blush a bit, and finally looked at her.
"What?" he wondered, seeing various emotions swirl through her silver eyes.
"You couldn't face me? Anders, of all the… Ridiculous things to say. What did you think I would do, hurt you?"
"No," he replied, hands curling into fists. "But I thought I might've hurt you. That if you hadn't stopped me, I could've killed everyone down there."
"You wouldn't have," she stated, eyes never leaving his.
"You don't know that!" She was in his face faster than he could register, anger flashing in the silver orbs.
"Yes, I do! The Anders I know would never do anything to hurt innocent people. It is the Justice part that hasn't quite learned that little trick." In his mind, Anders felt the remnants of the Spirit flare up at her accusation, but he was in no mood to lose control here, of all places. "The man I have known for three years is a kind, gentle, helpful soul. He would no more injure a bystander than he would harm a kitten. You're letting one incident cloud your view of yourself, Anders. I can't just sit back and let you do that."
"Why is that?" his voice came out softer than he wanted, and he swallowed painfully. Alana eased back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Because I care about you." Her voice cracked slightly, and his eyes widened. She backed off the bed, rubbing her sleeve across her face to dry her tears. "Now get some rest. If you're feeling up to it later, I'll bring you some food." He could only nod as she opened the door and disappeared out into the hall.
"Maker forgive me, Hawke. I warned you I'd hurt you." Outside, Alana was leaning against the wall, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Andraste's ashes, I am so stupid," she said softly. "Why can't I just tell him I want to be there for him? Why is it so hard to tell the one I love the truth? I wish Varric were here-" She stopped mid-thought, grimacing at how the Dwarven storyteller might indeed tell the other mage how Alana felt… In excruciating, if embellished, detail. "Maybe I'll just stick to my own words… If I can ever get them out." Sighing, she headed downstairs to help her mother.
Later that day, Alana returned to the room, opening the door as quietly as she could. With the fire having gone out, it was dark, but still comfortably warm. She walked over to the bed, seeing the blankets in a mound, which wasn't moving. "Anders?" she called out softly. There was no response. She tugged gently on the covers, trying to figure out where he was. Finally spotting a bit of blonde hair, she pulled the blankets down until she saw his face. However, any sort of relief was washed away when she saw how pale he was. A thin sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and his eyes were once again tightly shut. He was curled up tightly, shivering uncontrollably. Alana paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. Reaching out a hand, she brushed it lightly over his face, feeling the fever on his skin like it was a layer of clothing. "Mother!" she called out, fear in her voice. Leandra was in the room in a matter of moments, seeing her daughter's panicked face.
"What happened?" she asked, coming over to the bed and seeing their guest. "Oh Maker, he's very sick, sweetheart. We need some cool water, and ask Bodhain if he has any healing herbs." Nodding, the young mage fairly ran from the room, taking the stairs two at a time.
"Bodhain! Bodhain, I need your help!" she called out. He came running out of the study, Sandal and Niko following him.
"Serrah Hawke, what's wrong?"
"Do you have any healing herbs? Anders is sick."
"Oh my, that's not good. I'll see what I have, and if not, I'll run to the market. Is there anything else we might need?"
"I'm not sure. Anything you feel would be helpful," Alana said after a moment. "I need to get some water." She headed for the kitchen, drawing some water into a basin, and heading back upstairs. A quick side trip to the linen closet for some clean washcloths, and she was back in the room. Leandra had succeeded in unearthing Anders from his mound of blankets, and had gotten his pants and shirt back on him. He was still shaking, trying to curl up, but she wouldn't let him.
"Good, you're back. We need to cool him down." Alana set the basin on the nightstand and dipped a washcloth in, wringing it out before passing it to her mother. Leandra draped it over Anders' forehead, wiping off the sweat as best she could. "Another," she said, handing the now warm cloth back. They worked for almost a half-hour, cycling through the water until it too was rather warm. Leandra wiped a hand across her eyes, sighing heavily. "His fever is still there, but at least he's not shaking anymore. I'll see if Bodhain has what we need to help him further." She put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, hugging her for a moment. "He'll be all right, dear, I promise." Alana nodded, a lump in her throat.
"I wish I was a healer. I'd at least be able to do something."
"Just stay with him for now," Leandra advised. "I'm sure knowing that you're there will at least make him feel more at ease." With that, her mother left the room, and Alana once more sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out and tentatively brushed her fingers through Anders' hair. He shifted slightly, and she held her breath and stopped. When he stayed asleep, she continued, enjoying the feel of the strands between her fingers. Almost on instinct, her magick flowed to her hand, but it felt slightly different than her normal spells. It seemed cool, refreshing, and made her hair stand slightly on end. She barely recognized the type of magick she was channeling, until she saw Anders' eyes flutter open and focus on her.
"Hawke?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was music to her ears.
"Thank the Maker, you're awake."
"Am I… Still in your house?"
"Yes. I went to wake you earlier to eat, but you were unconscious and worse than when I first found you. You let yourself get sick." He fussed a little with the blankets, ducking down into them until all Alana could see where his eyes and the top of his head.
"Sorry," he mumbled. She stared at him for a moment before a giggle escaped her throat. He was adorable like that, and she wasn't sure if he'd done it on purpose or not.
"You still have a fever, but hopefully the worst is over. Are you hungry?" He shook his head, but a moment later, his stomach loudly reminded him that it had nothing in it, and hadn't for quite some time. "Right then. I'll be back." Darting out the door, Alana nearly bumped into her mother, who took the smile on her daughter's face as a good sign. Focusing her gaze on the bed once more, Leandra stared at the scene: A grown man, a mage, was huddled so far into the covers that he looked more like a frightened child. He was staring at her however, and slowly pulled the covers down until his whole face was again exposed.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion, madam," he told her.
"Intrusion? Young man, you are a friend of my daughter. One I know she cares about a great deal. If this is the worst thing I can expect from you, I shall breathe easier." Anders looked confused for a moment as her words registered, then smiled.
"You're not afraid I'll whisk her off somewhere for an apostate crusade?"
"Alana would never allow herself to be "whisked" anywhere she didn't want to be." When Leandra again saw the confusion, she sighed and crossed her arms. "That's right, I forget that most of you call her by her family name. To me, she is Alana, my eldest. If I started calling her Hawke, she'd think I had gone senile."
"It's a beautiful name. I'll be sure to remember it from now on." He smiled again, and it was a genuine, happy smile. Leandra put a hand on his forehead, clucking her tongue when she felt the heat radiating from him. He chuckled, but then stopped when she stared at him. "Sorry, just thinking that it's been a long time since I was the patient."
"It's nothing some rest and good food won't cure." Again, his stomach loudly protested the lack of food it was dealing with, and he blushed. "I'll just go help Alana fix you something. No getting out of that bed, you understand?" She shook a finger in his face to emphasize her point, and he just nodded. When he was alone in the room again, he started laughing, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Getting his lungs to calm down was normally simple, but his magick was being difficult with him sick. Unless Hawke -Alana- could heal him, it was indeed going to be a little while before he was back on his feet. His eyelids felt heavy, and he shifted until he was staring at the fireplace. It had since burned out, but there was more wood stacked next to it. However, even if it had been ready to burn, he had no way of igniting the wood. Fire had always intrigued him, but he preferred ice magick and his healing abilities. He knew his fellow mage enjoyed the combat-potential of fire, and he'd seen her cast a lightning bolt every so often as well. They made a good team though, and he cherished any time he was able to spend with her. Hearing footsteps in the hall, his gaze shifted to the door, and to the young woman carrying in a tray of food. Just the smell made his mouth water, and Alana set it down on the nightstand next to the bed.
"Soup for now, and maybe later we'll try something solid."
"Thank you," he told her, his face getting hotter. He knew he was blushing a bit, but couldn't help it. "I just hope I won't be a burden to you." She helped him sit up, arranging the pillows at his back to help prop him up.
"You'd never be a burden," she promised him, setting the tray on his lap. As he ate, she watched him with a small smile. She hadn't noticed it at first, but his hair had completely come loose from the ponytail he normally had it in, and fell to the tops of his shoulders. Without even realizing what she was doing, Alana reached out and ran her fingers through it. When he froze, she pulled back, turning practically crimson. "Sorry," she mumbled, wringing her hands in the blankets. Setting the empty soup bowl down, Anders faced her, trying to decide what he would do. Finally, temptation won out, and his fingers brushed very lightly against her dark-brown locks. When she didn't pull back or gasp, his hand gently rested on her cheek.
"You've nothing to be sorry for," he told her. "Of all the people who've wanted to get their hands on me, none have been as beautiful as you." Alana's jaw almost hit the floor, and Anders sighed, frowned, and removed his hand. "Okay, that came out wrong."
"You meant it exactly how you said it," she shot back, quirking an eyebrow at him as she took the tray back. "But you should sleep now, Anders. I'll be back in a bit with dinner." He nodded, and she carried the tray out, closing the door behind her. Snuggling back under the covers, his hunger sated, Anders felt warm and safe for the first time in quite a while.
"He's been here the whole time?" Varric asked as he sat on the main staircase, Bianca at his side. "Hawke, you sly-"
"It's not like that," she shot back, feeling her cheeks flush for a moment. "I found Anders collapsed on my doorstep, and Mother and I have been taking care of him."
"For three days?"
"Yes, for three days. He was out in the rain, and ended up getting sick."
"The great healer got sick?" the dwarf asked with a smirk.
"He's still human. Besides, you know how hard he pushes himself. I'm surprised he stays on his feet half the time."
"He knows you'll be there to catch him." Alana quirked an eyebrow and stared at her short friend, but he just shrugged. "What? It's true."
"Varric, is there something you're not telling me?" He put a hand on his chest and feigned surprise.
"Why madam, you wound me! If there was anything about Blondie I felt you needed to know, I would tell you right away."
"And if you felt I didn't need to know?" Varric grinned and winked.
"Well now, you're starting to catch on, Hawke." She threw her hands up in frustration, wondering how on earth she'd ever gotten involved in all this. "But seriously, I'm glad Blondie's all right. Darktown's going nuts trying to find him. I'll start letting slip that he's at least not with the Templars, or dead on the Wounded Coast." Varric stood up to leave, and was momentarily surprised when Hawke hugged him.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what? I'm not the one being a nursemaid to the crazy mage."
"For not telling the others. If you do, Aveline would be breaking down my door very soon." The dwarf chuckled, picturing the scene.
"Too true. You have to hand it to our Captain though; she is dedicated to her work. A little too much if you ask me, but I'm only a storyteller." Waving over his shoulder, Varric and Bianca made their exit from the estate, and Alana headed back upstairs. Anders was sitting up in the bed, eyes closed, and she saw the blue wisps of magick surrounding him. He was trying to heal himself, but a moment later, the spell stopped, and he groaned softly.
"Are you all right?" she asked, worry clear in her voice. He opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly.
"Pretty pathetic when I can't even focus enough to speed up the process. Every time I try, it feels like I'm underwater, and it messes up my concentration." She sat down next to him, placing a hand on his forehead.
"This won't go away overnight, you know." He still had a mild fever, but he had been steadily improving.
"I need to get back to Darktown," he argued gently. "People there need me."
"The people need you to get well," she countered. "And don't think that you're going to be able to jump right back into healing as many as you can. The last thing I need is for you to collapse again."
"The last thing you need?" he asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.
"Yes, the last-" Alana stopped and stared at him, eyes widening. She felt the blush start at her ears and run straight to her toes, and she looked away. Anders turned her face to him again, but left his hand on her chin.
"You are the reason I go on, Alana Hawke. Of all the mages I have met in Kirkwall, none can even compare to what you have been able to do. If everyone rallied around you, mages would have nothing to fear."
"I'm not a leader," she protested. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."
"I'm not even sure what that is anymore." His hand fell away from her face, and she frowned. "I thought I was really helping our fellow apostates, but then-"
"Anders, we've been over this," she interrupted. "You would never hurt people. Justice is the one who did all that, but when you regained control, you stopped."
"Only because you got through to me. If you hadn't been there-"
"But I was," she reminded, placing her hand on his. "I will always be there for you, to bring you back if need be. You'll learn to control Justice one day."
"I… I don't know if that'll ever be possible. But thank you for believing in me." They smiled at each other, and then Leandra was in the doorway, carrying a tray.
"Lunch is- Oh, am I disturbing you?" Both of them blushed and pulled their hands back, and Leandra sighed. One of them was going to have to confess before long. She left the room, glancing back at her daughter and their "patient". "Knowing Alana, she'll be the one to say something. She just needs a little nudge."
Two days later, Anders was well enough for both Alana and Leandra to allow him move out of the bed. The young noble still watched him closely, but he did indeed seem fine. "It'll be odd not having him here," Leandra said to her in the hall.
"What do you mean?"
"I've rather gotten used to seeing him for the last week. And I know you'll be sad to see him go-"
"Mother," she whispered, face turning red. "How did you-"
"I was young once too," Leandra quipped. "And you stare at Anders the same way I used to look at your father. Does he know you care so deeply for him?"
"I… I'm not sure. I'd like to think so, but he keeps telling me that I'll only get hurt if I get involved with him."
"And yet, he remains at your side." Alana frowned and thought about that for a moment. For all of Anders' protests about himself, he'd never once suggested that they stop seeing each other. In fact, any time she had a job, he was one of the first people to volunteer to go with her. "Did that clear up anything, dear?"
"A little. I still don't know how he truly feels. Every time I want to talk to him about that, I get so nervous."
"You'll find the right words soon enough. Now then, maybe we should let him take a nice, hot bath before he leaves. Maker knows he won't be getting one in Darktown unless it rains again."
"And I want to avoid letting Anders get rained on again." Alana headed for the bath, grabbing fresh towels from the linen closet. She quickly filled the tub, got a fire going to keep the room warm, and then decided to heat the water faster via magick. She heard the door open, and turned from her work. However, her eyes widened when she saw Anders standing there, holding his shirt and cloak in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Your mother said I could take a bath if I wanted… Maker knows I need one." Alana nodded and stood up, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her eyes roamed over his chest before she could stop herself, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.
"It's all right. I was just getting everything ready. Did you need anything else?" He smiled and bit and shrugged.
"Well, I won't say no if you wanted to stay and help," he teased.
"If you really want me to, I will." Now it was Anders' turn to stare, and a smirk formed on her lips. "Or are you all talk, ser mage?"
"That sounded like a challenge." He set his clothes down and folded his arms over his chest, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"Maybe it was," she replied with a shrug. "Take my offer and find out."
"Then I will. I'll be glad for the company, anyway." His hands went to the top of his pants, and Alana turned her back and closed her eyes. This close to temptation, she didn't trust herself to be a lady. When she heard the water splash and him sigh, she turned back around. Anders was sitting in the tub, eyes closed for a moment. "Andraste's knickers, that feels good." Alana giggled, sitting down next to the tub and handing him the sponge and soap.
"So, after this it's back to Darktown?" she inquired.
"You know the answer to that. I can't abandon the refugees."
"I know, and I wouldn't suggest that you should. But… Mother and I will miss having you here." Anders stared at her, seeing her bite her bottom lip for a moment.
"Miss me? You two have been taking care of me for the last week. I'd have thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me."
"Anders, no!" She looked up into his eyes, kneeling now so she could be face-to-face with him. "I never want to be rid of you."
"I know," he said softly. "You said that you care about me."
"I do." He soaped up his hair, ducking under the water for a moment to clean it off. "I don't want you to go, Anders."
"It's not like I'm leaving Kirkwall." He rubbed soap onto the sponge, and then began to scrub his arms, feeling better by the moment.
"I know that," she said, fidgeting slightly. "But having you in the house has been… It's been nice, to have someone else to talk to. Mother has her own life, and Bodhain has his hands full with Sandal. And when my uncle drops by, I don't really have anything to say to him. With you, at least I could talk about things going on in the city, or about magick, or even our friends."
"Who are probably all waiting to kill me," he said wryly.
"I doubt that. And I'll handle Aveline if she comes after you. Varric stopped by the other day, and he said he'd just be telling Darktown that you were safe."
"That dwarf is a lot more caring than he lets on," Anders said with a smile. "I still think he was the one who made sure I wasn't bothered by the Coterie or Carta anymore."
"Probably, though he'll never admit it." The sponge was suddenly handed to her, and Alana looked confused.
"Can you wash my back?" he asked. "I can't reach everywhere." Taking the still-soapy sponge, Alana began scrubbing his back, but paused for a moment when she saw a scar that ran from his right shoulder to under the water on his left side.
"What gave you this?" she asked, tracing it with one finger. He shivered under her touch, but she barely noticed.
"A Templar. On my third escape attempt, the one they sent after me was determined that this would be my last try. After they caught me, drained me of mana, and shackled me, he decided I was being smart when I told him the fastest way back to the Tower. So he hit me. I got back up, and he hit me again. Then I told him that it would take more than a few lousy punches to keep me down. That's when he drew his sword. Next thing I knew, it was two days later, and I was in the infirmary in the Circle. The Templar told them he found me being attacked by bandits, and they were the ones who hurt me. I told the Senior Enchanters what happened, and he was reassigned." Alana sat in silence, horrified that anyone could do that to a powerless mage.
"How many more escape attempts did you make?"
"Four more. It was on the seventh one that I met the Hero of Ferelden. She was a fellow mage, and conscripted me into the Wardens so I wouldn't have to go back to the Circle. She told me I needed to find my own place in the world, like she had."
"You told me once that I reminded you of her."
"You do," he replied, turning slightly. "She was a powerful mage, but still kind to everyone. I guess being an elf, she already felt outcast slightly, and having magick didn't mean as much. I miss her sometimes, but she had someone she needed to return to. I left Ferelden not long after she left the Keep, to do as she had suggested."
"And have you found your place yet?" A moment later, they were face-to-face again, and Anders was smiling.
"It's wherever you are." His hand came up to caress her cheek, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward, their lips meeting over the rim of the tub. His surprise quickly turned into acceptance, and his arms circled around her. After a few moments, they both pulled back, panting slightly.
"That was… Interesting," she said, trying to get her breathing back to normal. Anders was staring at her, looking like he wanted to tell her to both stay and go.
"Are you sure about-" She silenced him with another kiss, gently biting at his lower lip, and he sucked in a quick breath.
"More than ever. Move over." She gently pushed him back, and he wasn't sure what she was doing, until her robe was thrown almost across the room. Her undergarments joined them a moment later, and then Alana stepped into the tub. Anders swallowed, his whole body shaking. She pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, a blush coloring her cheeks. "Do you want this?" she asked seriously.
"I…" He'd never wanted anything more in his life. Even freeing the mages was starting to take second place to what she was offering him. Justice was not happy, but Anders ignored the thoughts of leaving. He couldn't abandon her now; not when she was asking him to make good on his feelings for her. "I want you more than anything, Alana Hawke." She smiled and kissed him again.
"Then just be gentle," she cautioned.
"That was… Amazing."
"Mage sex always is," he said, snickering. She sighed, part of her wishing that this had been his first time, but she wasn't angry. With all the restrictions he'd told her happened at the Circle, finding someone to ease the pain was probably one of the few bright spots. "I'm sorry," he said, seeing her eyes shift. "I didn't mean-"
"I'm not jealous," she told him, slowly trying to sit up. "I have you now, and that's all that matters."
"You don't care that I've had… Experience?" She met his gaze and grinned.
"That's partly what made it so great. I just hope I didn't disappoint you." He gathered her into his arms, pulling her against his chest and stroking her still-wet hair.
"Never. That was worth everything I've been through to get here."
"I'm glad Mother suggested the bath." He laughed, shaking his head.
"Your mother is quite clever. I can see where you get it from." She shrugged and stood, walking over to where she'd thrown her clothes.
"We should get dressed before anyone happens to come in to check on us," she advised. Anders sighed and reached for his pants.
"After this, Darktown will seem very dark indeed." Alana was by his side a moment later, pressing a hand over his heart.
"Then stay here," she offered. "Be with me, so I know you will be safe. I know you have to go to the clinic still, but…"
"You wouldn't be afraid to show you love an apostate?"
"Since I am one myself, why does it matter who I love? But yes, I would tell the whole world my feelings for you if need be." Anders chuckled, kissing her hand.
"Just tell Varric. He'll let the rest of the world know for you." They dissolved into laughter, which reached through the door. Outside, Leandra was walking back down the hall, a smile on her face.
"That's my girl," she said proudly.
The Hanged Man two nights later found Hawke seated at a table, surrounded by her female friends. The men were seated around Varric, seeing who had the best story for him. Sebastian and Fenris seemed to be tolerating Anders rather well, and he was actually trying not to goad them tonight. 'Thank the Maker,' Alana thought to herself. 'I'd rather not have to try and patch him up after getting into a fight with those two.'
"So Hawke," Isabella said with a wink. "I have it on good authority that you've had a rather hectic week."
"Varric told you, did he?"
"He may have mentioned a few things," the dark-skinned woman said with a shrug. Merrill and Aveline looked first to her, and then at Hawke.
"What have you been up to?" the redhead demanded. "I've never known you to just drop off the map, Hawke."
"Anders too," Merrill brought up. "I heard some rumors in the Alienage that Templars caught him, but he seems fine to me." They all turned to look at the mage, who was laughing at something Varric had said.
"Wait, were you two together?" Alana shrugged, taking another sip from her mug.
"Ask Isabella. She seems well-informed," she told the guard captain.
"Actually, I was just bluffing," the pirate confessed. "I asked that bloody dwarf straight up what was going on, and he wouldn't tell me. Said you asked him not to."
"What are you hiding?"
"Nothing, Aveline!" she replied, putting her hands up. "Nothing that's anyone's business but my own, anyway."
"But Anders was with you," Merrill pressed, voice soft. "I mean, you're the one he goes to when there's trouble, and I heard there was a lot of trouble that night-"
"Merrill, please stop." The warning tone was clear in Alana's voice, and the Dalish mage just nodded. Aveline got up, seemingly disgusted by what she was thinking.
"Well, now that she's gone-"
"Isabella."
"I'm not stupid, Hawke. I know love when I see it. And you have loved that mage for a while now." A blush tinted her cheeks, and Merrill giggled. "There's nothing wrong with acting on your feelings, you know. I do it all the time."
"Hence why you're in the clinic a lot," Alana retorted, rolling her eyes.
"You had him in your house for over a week. No one except that damn Chantry-Prince is that chaste." The duelist nodded at Sebastian, who was shaking his head and trying to explain himself to both Anders and Varric.
"So you think I did… What, exactly? Threw Anders down in a fit of passion and had my way with him?" Isabella smirked and locked eyes with Hawke.
"Did you?"
"Maybe," she replied with a shrug.
"Why would you throw him?" Merrill wondered. "And don't you usually tell him what to do? How is "having your way" any different?" Both humans stared at her, and she blinked. "What? Did I miss something?"
"As usual, Kitten," the pirate said with a sigh. She turned back to Hawke, mischief bright in her eyes. "So, did Justice get involved?"
"Isabella! No! It was just me and An- Oh… You sly bitch."
"Thank you," she replied, giving a little bow. "But now that I got my gossip for the night, I'll leave you be. And don't worry, I won't tell the captain."
"I'd be afraid she'd pike me on the wall," Alana admitted. "She really doesn't approve of Anders."
"She's just jealous because she doesn't have anyone. Once she gets over that, she'll see that you're too good a friend to hate over a man."
"Thanks, Isabella."
"Don't mention it. But, if you're ever in the mood for some "company"…"
"I'll keep it in mind," she replied, standing up. Anders saw her and rose as well, bidding the others good night.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"More than ready." As the two mages left the tavern, Varric chuckled.
"Something amusing?" Fenris asked him, raising an eyebrow.
"It's nothing, Elf. Just a story for another time."
"I'm not sure I like how close that apostate is getting with Lady Hawke," Sebastian brought up. "She's a good woman."
"A woman who can take care of herself," Fenris told him. "She might be a mage, but Hawke has principles. Nothing would make her violate them."
"Besides, Choir-boy, if it gets Blondie out of Darktown more often, I'm happy to see them together," the dwarf stated. "If he's down there too long, he starts getting those weird thoughts of his. Hawke keeps him on the straight and narrow."
"I suppose you're right," the archer agreed. "At least with Hawke, we know she'll always do the right thing."