A/N: This is the first fanfic I ever wrote-borne out of my adoration of Carver and my obsession with where the Champion disappears to post-game. I'm posting this early effort of mine while I work on a new long story in the hopes that y'all will give me some feedback here that may help me make the new one better.

Drakonis 9:31

Her shoulder hurt. A lot. This was the most salient thing. Searing pain in her left shoulder, her neck, her chest. All on the left.

And the sharp, clear blues eyes, full of concern. She didn't recognize them. Did she? No.

"She's awake. Hey! I've got you. Don't worry. You'll be okay. Brother! She's awake!"

And then she wasn't anymore.

These eyes were different. Amber. Not blue. Concentration, not concern. The pain was different, too. Numb, sore, something else her brain couldn't quite name. Words were hard to find. Her head was foggy.

"Not yet, my dear. Back to sleep. Let me work."

She tried to nod. Sleep sounded good.

Things were less foggy the next time she opened her eyes. Wood ceiling. Lit by candles. It wasn't the docks. She was alone this time. Nobody's eyes hovered above her. Closing her eyes again, she exhaled slowly and went through an inventory. Fingers wiggled. Toes felt intact. The pain seemed to be gone, but her chest was stiff.

Opening her eyes again, she tried to take in her surroundings. A bed. No, a cot. In a large room with no windows. There were other cots. It smelled faintly of herbs and dust. There were voices, a quiet conversation from somewhere on the other side of the room. She carefully pulled herself up in the cot and felt a tug on her chest. Looking down, she discovered the bandage over her collarbone. Thick white fabric stuck to her skin around the edges with some sort of paste. It tugged at her skin when she moved. But it didn't hurt. She finally got herself sitting upright, her back against the wall, when a man stepped into her line of sight. Tall. Blonde hair. Amber eyes. Stubble. Feathers. Feathers? Maybe her mind was still foggy after all.

"Ah. You're awake again. And moving. How do you feel? Any pain? Soreness?"

She shook her head. No. No pain. Confusion, but no pain. The confusion must have been clear. He sat on a stool next to the cot.

"You're in a clinic. In Darktown. There was an arrow in your chest. Do you remember?"

"Wh—what?" The longer her eyes were open, the less things were making sense.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" He smiled softly. "Okay. What do you remember?"

What did she remember? Amaranthine. Darkspawn. Rhys. No. That was months ago. Kirkwall? Everything was foggy. Everything. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to remember, tried to figure out what was going on.

"I was at the docks. Going home. There was…a fight. And blood. So much blood." She opened her eyes and looked around the room again. Nothing familiar. "Where am I?" She turned back to the blonde. "Who are you?" She couldn't stop her voice from shaking.

"My apologies. My name is Anders. I'm a healer, and you're in my clinic. In Darktown."

She shook her head. Someone had brought her here. Someone with blue eyes.

Anders watched the emotions pass over her face, recognizing the confusion. "It's okay. You're safe here. We'll get you sorted out." His smile was kind, reassuring. "You lost a lot of blood. I'll be back with some food for you soon. Just rest." She took a few deep breaths, then nodded to him.

"Meghan. My name is Meghan."

Her memories would come back soon.

The next time Meghan woke, things were much clearer. She sat up in the cot, leaning against the wall again. She remembered the fight in the alley where she sometimes slept. The Redwater Teeth. She remembered the pain when the arrow pierced her chest, near her collarbone. Her collarbone should have been broken. It didn't feel broken. She rolled her shoulder, testing it. Poked at it. Definitely not broken. The healer must have done something. Anders. That was his name. And then it clicked—the healer in Darktown she'd been hearing about was a mage. He had probably fixed her bone with magic.

That was as far as she got with piecing her night together when Anders came back. This time with a mug of something hot and a plate of bread and cheese.

"I noticed you testing your shoulder. Does it feel okay?" He passed her the mug. She nodded and took a sip, hoping it wasn't peppermint tea. She hated peppermint.

"Rose hips, cinnamon and…honey?" She asked.

Anders blinked at her. Twice. "You could tell from one sip?"

Meghan nodded again and took another sip before resting the mug carefully against her knee. "I've heard about you, you know. The healer from Darktown."

She saw Anders tense, jaw clenching, something flashing in his eyes. Immediately she realized her mistake.

"Oh, no. No, no. I'm sorry. I'm no friend of the Templars. Don't worry." When she saw that he didn't look reassured, she sighed and reluctantly held her hand out in front of her, palm up. She took a breath and concentrated on her magic. It didn't take long for little lightning bolts to start dancing across her open palm. Before the magic got away from her, she pulled it back, and looked up at him. There wasn't a drop of the tension from before in the smile he gave her now.

"I didn't realize you were a mage," he said.

"I'm not. Not really. I mean, I can do the lightning thing, but that's about it. I don't think of myself as mage." She shrugged.

Anders drew his brows together. "That's all you can do? You were never trained? In a Circle or…somewhere?"

"No." She nodded to the plate of food that Anders was still holding. "If you share some of that food, I'll tell you my 'Maker's breath, I have magic!' story."

"Oh! Sorry. Right. This is for you anyway. I ate while you were sleeping. But I'm always game for a good story." He sat on the stool and passed the plate to her. And Meghan told her story of the stable boy who cornered her behind the merchants' stalls and tried to kiss her. She was 13—already apprenticed to Master Henley, learning about potions and salves. She had three older brothers and knew just where to kick a boy to make him leave her alone, but the stable boy caught her by surprise. Instead of kicking, she shot lighting at him. He was so frightened that he froze, and then she did kick him. Anders's lips quirked up at that.

"Fortunately, for me, he was in enough pain that he couldn't really tell whether the kick came before or after the flashing lights. My brothers coming after him the next day helped, too I suppose."

"But your family knew what happened?" His eyebrows were high on his forehead.

"Yes," Meghan sighed. "My grandmother was a mage, so we knew it was a possibility. If my mother were alive, she might have wanted to send me to the Circle. But my father said he couldn't give me up. So he told me to hide it. Pretend it wasn't there. And that's what I did. What I've always done."