1. Like the Beginning

The boy's condition was grave, but he had dealt with worse before. Granted, that had been back in Amaranthine, when he had the backing of one of the most powerful people in Fereldan. With the trust of the Warden-Commander Queen, he could walk the streets without glancing over his shoulder every minute; buy poultices and lyrium potions without having to bribe every vendor. But there was no point dwelling on past luxuries. This boy's life depended on him, and his full concentration. The kid was in a bad way, but he could do this.

A huge surge of magic sucked mana from him, a great deal more than he had been expecting. The boy's parents shifted nervously beside the splintering wooden table. He would have preferred that they not be there, but the boy was so young that it was impossible to separate them from their son. His face contorted as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him.

Can't stop. Have to save him.

With one last frustrated burst of healing magic, the boy gasped and sat upright. The mother was by his side in an instant, pulling her son off the makeshift sickbed. His father was the only one who seemed to remember that the healer was still present, and worse for wear.

As he steadied himself against the wall, the boy's father squeezed his shoulder in a brief gesture of thanks, and then retreated back to the family. Behind him, he heard the door to his clinic open. Not a tentative creak, like his patients, but a definite confident push. Templars? Damn. He hadn't been here that long, how had they gotten wind of him already? Justice stirred angrily inside him, and he could feel his control slipping. Not here. Not if that boy and his family were still close by.

He grabbed his staff as he spun around to face the intruders. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"

He wasn't quite expecting the group that he was facing. Not Templars, or raiders, or even some belligerent refugees. It was a rather ragtag crew: a dwarf with a crossbow, who he was sure that he had seen around Kirkwall before; a guardswoman; and two girls, probably related. The younger of the two was a mage, he could see that clearly. How she had gone unnoticed by the Templars was a mystery to him. The elder of the girls was obviously in charge. She was of average stature, with brown hair swept back into a low ponytail. If it hadn't been for her armour—dirty, dented, obviously old—he would have pegged her for a Hightown resident. There was something about her demeanour and poised expression that didn't fit with her observably poor standing. But just because she was pretty didn't mean she wasn't still a threat.

She held up her hands. "I'm just here to talk."

The dwarf—something Tethras—stepped in. "We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Rumour has it you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

Damn. He thought that here in the Free Marches, far away from Amaranthine and the Warden Royal couple, he would be safe from that part of his past. But people loved to gossip, so he shouldn't really be surprised that someone had found out.

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" Because he sure as hell wouldn't go. After Commander—after Queen Amara had left Vigil's Keep for the Fereldan Court, followed by Nathaniel and Velanna, life in the Wardens had lost its appeal. And of course, the most important reason of all: "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat." He got all choked up just thinking about it. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

The girl in front of him cocked an eyebrow, perplexed. "You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot in the Deep Roads?"

Her companions exchanged skeptical glances. They probably thought that the taint had gone to his brain. Maybe it had. He couldn't figure out why, at the slightest prompt from her, he found himself rambling on about his cat. When he finished talking, there was a bit of an awkward silence. Tethras—Bartrand? No, that was the older brother—was staring at him, clearly debating whether or not this had been worth the trip to Darktown.

"I always heard that joining the Wardens is for life."

Obviously not. The King and Queen of Fereldan had both been in the Order once. But she was dressed like a Kirkwaller, and that information had been mostly contained inside Fereldan. "That's only partly true," he answered anyway. "The 'hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn' and 'plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon' parts don't go away." He flashed her a grin, taking himself by surprise. "But it turns out if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

There was a burst of annoyance and disapproval inside his chest. Justice. The spirit was less than impressed with his host's behaviour. Anders mentally kicked himself. What the hell had he just been doing? Flirting? No, that had to stop. He forced his expression back to one of suspicion.

"I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads." She said it without a hint of fear or anxiety. Either she was completely unaware of the dangers of venturing into such a place, or she was nuts. "Any information you have could save people's lives."

So that was it. They were after his maps. "I will die a happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again." His last excursion there had been less than ideal. Talking darkspawn running around, strange little grubs pinning him to the ground and tearing at his robes … "You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested—" Hang on. Don't forget why you came to Kirkwall in the first place. Her sister's a mage, and she looks capable. This could be just the break you need. "Although … a favour for a favour. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you?"

Her eyes lit up, and he had to fight a smile once again. "Help my expedition reach the Deep Roads, and I'll do whatever you need."

The dwarf beside her flinched as she leapt to his aid without investigating. Part of him warmed at her innocence and naivety, assuming that his request would be easy or legal. Another part of him worried about what a city like Kirkwall would do to a poor girl like her. "You don't ask for my terms? What if I were asking for the Knight-Commander's head on a spike?"

She hesitated for a moment as she realized her foolishness. "Is that what you ask?"

"I have a Warden map of the depths in this area. But there's a price." He unconsciously moved away from the door to his clinic, away from any prying ears. "I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows." He watched her face intently, and was delighted when she didn't jump at his words. Promising. "The Templars learned of my plan to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

She glanced over her shoulder at her sister, loitering with the others near the clinic entrance. "I would help any mage in such circumstances, map or no."

He liked this girl more every minute. Generous, brave, beautiful—he stopped himself quickly, and Justice churned inside, warning him away from such thoughts. "I welcome your aid. I have already sent word for Karl to meet me in the Chantry tonight. Join us there, and we'll ensure that no matter who is with him, we all walk away free."

She nodded, and moved back towards her group, their business complete. An emotion stirred in his chest, one that he couldn't quite name. It wasn't from Justice; it was purely from him.

"Your name," he blurted, before he could think better of it.

The group stopped, and she turned around. "Hawke," she answered. A moment later, a slight smile touched her lips. "Theia Hawke."

Tethras nudged her covertly, urging her out of the clinic. As she disappeared around the corner, Anders found himself already looking forward to seeing her again, even though it meant putting himself in harm's way. Justice prodded him inwardly, troubled by this attraction to a stranger. Anders told himself that he was merely concerned about this potential ally. She was pure, unsullied by Kirkwall's ferocity and cruelty. It was refreshing for his world-weary eyes to see someone like her. He only wanted to make sure that she stayed innocent for as long as possible. That was all.

As he turned back to a waiting patient, he allowed himself a small grin. "Theia …"

And my head told my heart
"Let love grow"
But my heart told my head
"This time no
This time no"

- Mumford & Sons