Disclaimer: I do not own the characters you'll read about in this tale – Bioware does. This story will contain scenes of a very mature nature including (but not limited to) sex and self-harm/mutilation. Expect elements of drama/angst/hurt & comfort in this story. There will naturally be some spoilers in the chapters to come, though this isn't a retelling of how things went down verbatim in the game – that'd make for a boring read ;)
I picked up Dragon Age 2 not too long ago and have since fallen completely in love with it! I can't decide who I adore more, Anders or Fenris. This is a new fandom for me, so I'm eager to dive in! For now though, I'll focus on Anders (don't worry, Fenris will get his turn in the spotlight – I've already been tossing some ideas around!). Thank you for reading, any and all reviews are greatly appreciated! All the best – Fallon.
Chapter One
Marian Hawke rushed forward, weaving around the dead bodies and letting her staff fall from her grasp as she went to her mother's side. She barely managed to catch the broken woman as she collapsed, her mangled legs unable to carry her any further.
Maker, spare her...please!
She didn't know how to help her mother, but she knew she couldn't lose her. Her father, Malcolm, had died many years ago and Bethany had fallen in their attempt to flee Lothering. Carver...well he was essentially dead to her, having decided to join the Templars in a last ditch attempt to free himself from his elder sister's shadow.
"Mother, please hang on! We'll find a way to make this better!" Hawke pleaded as her eyes clouded with tears.
Her mother had been kidnapped and forced to play a part in a very sick man's game. Leandra hadn't been his first victim either, she knew of at least three other women that had fallen by his hand. Hawke had been following his trail for years and had even come close to stopping him once. She cursed herself for letting him get away all those years ago.
It's my fault...I practically handed Mother to him!
Leandra shushed her child and used what little strength she had left to squeeze her hand, "I knew you would find me...thank you."
"I didn't get here fast enough!" Hawke hissed as warm tears fell down her cheeks, "I could have stopped him before he..."
"He would have trapped me here forever...you saved me. I get to be with Bethany now...and your father. My only regret is that you will be alone..."
Hawke's companions stood quietly behind her. Isabela wasn't usually comfortable being around such raw emotions, but she respected Hawke too much to skulk away now. Aveline was finding it hard to keep the tears from flowing. She wished more than anything that they had arrived in time to stop such evil from befalling her. After everything they went through to get to Kirkwall, everything they had sacrificed, Leandra deserved to live a long life with the only child she had left. But even that had been taken from her.
Anders kept his eyes glued to Marian. Her shoulders trembled as despair overcame her, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and tell her it would all be alright. But she was a mage too; she knew there was nothing that could save her mother now. Anders didn't have to tell her that.
Leandra's eyes grew heavy and she felt the Maker's arms wrap tenderly around her, "My little girl has become so strong...I'm so proud of you..."
Marian's lip quivered, "Please...don't go...don't leave me alone!"
But Leandra didn't answer, she was already gone.
She let out a heart wrenching wail and clutched her mother's body to her chest.
It wasn't fair! She had spent the last four years fighting everyone else's battles, making their lives better – why did this have to happen to her? Hadn't she lost enough already?
She whispered pleas into her mother's hair, "Mother...please!"
Anders couldn't stand by and watch any longer. He had silently loved and longed for Marian for three long years. Every time they were alone together he had to bite his tongue to keep from confessing. The smiles she shot him and her playful flirting didn't make that easy, but he'd be damned if he hurt her. And hurt her he would, should anything ever happen between them.
Marian...
Her pain was his, even if she did not know it.
He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Marian, burying his face in her auburn locks. She began to cry harder and Aveline stepped around them to gather Leandra into her arms. She expected the dead woman to be heavy, but she was surprisingly light.
Marian struggled weakly against his hold, "Please don't take her from me, Aveline! Bring her back!"
Anders rested his chin on her shoulder, "Hush, Hawke..."
His voice was gentle, but it did not halt the bleeding in her heart, "This can't be happening..."
Anders tightened his hold on her and fought the urge to breathe in her scent, "Hawke...Marian, I'm so sorry..."
Nearby, Aveline wrapped the cleanest linen she could find around Leandra, tying it firmly around her so she was given the dignity in death her murderer had denied her in the final moments of her life. She gathered the fragile bundle into her arms and shot Anders a cautious glance. Hawke had been forced to see her mother is this condition once, and Aveline didn't want to put her through it again.
Anders understood.
"Marian...you need to stand; we have to get out of here." He spoke tenderly, hoping that small act would dull her agony but knowing it did nothing of the sort.
She fell back into his chest, groaning his name, "Anders..."
He leaned in, "What is it, Hawke?"
She looked back at him, her pretty green eyes glassy and tired, "Wake her up...please?"
Marian sat in her chair before the fire, transfixed by the dancing flames before her. It was very early in the morning and she was tired, but she didn't dare attempt to sleep.
Sleep brought dreams and dreams inevitably brought Mother.
Every day she woke up hurting more than the next, and her mother had only been dead for five days – how was Marian expected to live the rest of her life like this?
She heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind her. She hoped it was an enemy come to finish her off, but the yawn told her it was only Gamlen.
"What are you doing up so early, my dear?" He asked gruffly, still half asleep.
Gamlen had been staying in the guest room since Leandra died. Marian had protested the idea, but Aveline convinced her it wasn't right for her to be alone during such a difficult time. She supposed Gamlen needed her too...even if he was still the same ass he was before.
"I haven't slept, Uncle."
Gamlen sighed. The loss of his sister hurt him too, but Marian had begun to retreat into herself to deal with the pain. While his methods of coping would make members of the Chantry swoon in disgust, he had at least left the house in the past few days.
"Denying yourself sleep isn't going to bring her back," Gamlen mumbled.
"How very kind of you to point out, Uncle..."
Gamlen sighed, "Don't forget I miss her too, Marian. I lost her once to your father and then to that madman...my point is you're not the only one who is hurt."
Marian turned her gaze back to the fire. Gamlen was essentially all she had left, so she refused to push him away even though his relationship with her mother had been strained to say the least. He had stolen Leandra's inheritance away from her and ruined the reputation of the name "Amell". But you couldn't choose your family; you had to make do with what the Maker gave you. And sometimes the Maker had a sick sense of humor.
She stood, "I'll retire to my room for the night then..."
Gamlen smiled lazily, still half asleep, "That would be for the best, my dear."
Anders paced back and forth in his empty clinic. It was late, but thoughts of Marian kept him from finding any real rest. Usually it was concerns that the Templars were getting too close that kept him awake, but he hadn't seen her in five days and was concerned for her.
Grief had a way of breaking the strongest after all.
He had spoken to Aveline about his worries. She had been equally concerned, but cautioned him not to approach Marian until she was ready to see them. The wound was still raw, and Aveline didn't see the wisdom in prodding it – the process wouldn't go any faster for it.
Anders had agreed with her, he still did, but the uneasy feeling did not lessen.
If he had learned anything from his years of evading the Templars and their sympathizers, it was to always trust his instincts. As he forced himself to lie down in his cot, he decided he'd visit her the next night, after his clinic had closed for the day. He didn't want to hover over her as she mourned, but if she hadn't emerged from her estate by the following day...
Justice's voice echoed in his mind, advising him to redirect his thoughts away from Hawke and back to their goal.
Anders shoved Justice back to the depths of his mind.
Marian was the one subject he had no intention of discussing with the spirit.
Marian lifted herself out of the tub and shivered as the cool air made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She quickly covered herself with a plush towel and wrung the water from her hair. Physically the bath had made her feel quite better, but free from its mind numbing warmth she was reminded about everything she had lost.
Bethany...Carver...Mother...
She pulled her nightgown over her head and laid her damp hair over her shoulder. Her body screamed at her to sleep, but her mind pleaded for her not to – she wasn't sure which would win the battle.
As she lay on top of the richly embroidered sheets, she tried to think of something, anything that would distract her from her misery.
Anders...
She could still feel the lingering warmth of his embrace across her back and down her arms. In the three years she had known him, he had always been the first person she went to when she had a new adventure to set out on. Her reasoning for that went beyond his skill in battle and healing.
He made her heart pound ferociously in her chest every time he walked past her. When he tended to her wounds, she found herself wondering how those fingers would treat her in other places. They had flirted often over the years, but he always changed the subject or warned her he'd hurt her if she got too close.
She had nothing of worth, not even the man she cared deeply for.
Marian choked on a sob and rolled over in bed. Nothing he could ever do to her would hurt as badly as her mother's loss.
A cold, broken chuckle escaped her lips. The Maker seemed to enjoy giving her glimpses of happiness and then ripping them away. He was like a greedy child not wanting to share his toys with the other children.
Finding herself becoming too hot, she rolled up the long sleeves of her nightgown. Her forearms were relatively unscarred compared to the rest of her body, but she had truly never been one to fuss over her looks. As a mage, she was hated no matter what she looked like. If anything, her plainness helped her blend into the crowd.
She dragged her nails over the tender flesh of her wrist, and then again.
Don't be foolish, Marian...
She leaned back against the headboard and stared at her wrist, watching as the marks faded. The hurt inside was too much; she needed something to drown it out. Physical pain was something she had grown accustomed to in her travels, but the overwhelming emotional pain...it was too much for even her to bear.
Maybe...
She called upon her magic, drawing fire into her hand and focusing it into her fingertips. Her nails became red, seared with fiery magic.
Inhaling sharply, she pressed her index finger into her arm and drew it slowly down until it met the bend of her elbow. She sighed as her flesh burned and glanced down to view her handiwork. A blood red streak ran down the length of her arm, a stark contrast against her pale skin. The ache in her heart somehow felt lighter and she carved another burn into her arm, followed soon after by another.
When her left arm was covered, she turned her attention onto her right. She bit her lip and closed her eyes through it all. She would use no healing magic on herself, she wanted the scars, wanted the hurt.
What she was inflicting upon herself was nothing compared to what her mother had been forced to endure.
She wept at the thought and dug her nails into her thighs. The heat from her magic burned through the thin fabric of her nightgown and touched the tender flesh that lay just under.
Maker, take it all away...