Author's Note:
This is my first time really exploring the world of Fanfiction as a writer instead of a reader, and I am so excited about it.
I just want to give a big thanks to the oh-so-talented and lovely Jaden Anderson, my wonderful Beta and mentor in this new adventure I've taken on.
Also a big thanks to other authors who have served for great inspiration on this site, thank you for encouraging me to do this!
I hope everyone enjoys, there is definitely more to come!
"We can find the warden in Darktown. We should be careful though, he might not take our introductions to be of the friendly type."
Ugh, Darktown. Just the words made her shudder. As much as she was beginning to love this dwarven friend of hers, she carried mixed feelings of the places he dragged her to.
Of course, that only reminded her why they needed this Warden's maps to the Deep Roads. While absent-mindedly lacing up her boots, she thought on the possibilities this adventure could bring her. "Thanks for staying through all that, Varric. After the news this morning, I can't see myself waiting another day to get this show on the road." First off - there'd be no more of her treacherous uncle. Wouldn't that be perfect? No more moldy walls, or sharing beds with the elbow twins, or encrusted food growing its own culture in the corners. With a sigh, she thumbed the folded piece of paper that lay in her pocket - her grandfather's will that she, Varric, Bethany, and Carver had just procured earlier that day.
"Not a problem, Hawke. If I found out I had something better than that old shack, I'd be just as eager. I also can't say Bianca and I wouldn't have had a talk with your dear old uncle, if you weren't already giving him what for."
Oh, she knew. If it wasn't for her mother, she, Bethany, and Carver would have torn Gamlen in half, and set fire to his remains. Was that thought putting a smile on her face? Awkward. "Let's go, we shouldn't waste any more time. Might be best if I go in by myself - he might find it less intimidating meeting a fellow mage, rather than such a dangerous vixen as Bianca."
Varric chuckled and nodded in agreement, stroking the side of his crossbow as it was the cheek of a woman he deeply loved. One day, she'd coax him into getting that story. One day. "That's true. Well either way, I'll be right behind you, Hawke."
The creak of the wooden floors welcomed her the moment she stepped within the clinic, shutting the door behind her. A warm fire burned in the corner of the room, illuminating the dark walls and maroon curtains that wrapped around long wooden poles.
Small beds lined the wall, and a medley of healing scents such as ozone, saffron, vanilla, and cloves filled her nose. There was only a small family in at the moment - a mother and father worrying over their daughter who had taken a nasty knock on the head. The warden in question was healing the little girl, and the feel of his magic warmed her blood, and somehow reminded her of home.
Marian knew he was aware of her as well, and wasn't surprised when his amber eyes lifted to hers, and he smiled. "I'll be with you in just a moment." Her Amell blue eyes held his gaze for a few moments before turning back to his work.
Those few moments had afforded her a chance to catch a glimpse of his strong jaw line and the subtle swell of his plump lips. They curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his kind, yet tired eyes. Sweat furrowed his brow, and just a small strand of hair lay in the way. She wanted to tuck it behind his ear, and wipe away the sweat. Maker, he's a pretty one. She shifted her weight, catching the expanse of his neck that was slightly covered by an abundance of gray feathers jutting out from his pauldrons. His perfectly fitted jacket showed off a strong chest and broad shoulders. Shuddering, her eyes wandered to his hands, the long thin fingers sparking with blue orbs, giving them an appearance of being strong and gentle at the same time.
It was some time before he finished healing the child, and it seemed to take a lot out of him. As he stumbled back, the little girl took her first deep breath as she opened her eyes, her parents squealing in delight before praising and thanking their daughter's healer. They grabbed him and hugged him tightly, before scooping up their daughter. After his firm instructions of her care, they left.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? This is my home, a sanctum of healing and salvation, and I will not stand for threats." She hadn't even noticed her own fingers catching with magic in response to his. But he had. His tone was sharp, and jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his staff.
She called forth a small wisp of healing magic to her hands as she spoke, hoping her words came from a place of warmth deep within. "I wasn't planning on threatening you, it's really not my style. Marian Hawke - but most call me Hawke." She waved her hand in the air. "Fellow apostate, Ferelden born. I heard you might have some maps that might just be of interest to me – however no one said anything about you being incredibly handsome." Where the hell did that come from?! Ugh, Isabela. She held her glowing hand out, a blush undoubtedly framing her cheeks, hoping to properly make his acquaintance.
Anders shook his head and his shoulders dropped in relief. His grip had loosened on his staff, his devilish grin pinning her to the spot. Yum.
"Handsome, huh? Well, I suppose you could call me that if you like, but for anyone else - my name is Anders." He winked at her and then added thoughtfully. "Fellow apostate you said? Well, good. For a moment, I thought you were a warden. And I won't go back to them. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat, Ser Pounce a Lot."
She giggled. "I'm sorry about your cat, but… was it really named Ser Pounce a Lot?"
"Hey, don't laugh! He was my cat, a gift from the Warden Commander, and Hero of Ferelden herself. We named him together. I took him into the Deep Roads once. Little bugger swatted a darkspawn right on the nose. He was a fierce companion." He was watching her, discreetly sizing her up as he spoke. Is he checking me out right now? Oh, she was fine with that.
"Those are actually the maps I'm looking for – the ones to the Deep Roads. Do you have them?" She shifted as his mood seemed to dim, as he placed his staff beside the mantle of the fire.
Anders brow furrowed. "I do. But why would you want to go there? I hate the blighted Deep Roads. The last time I went…well. Let's just say it got a little more intense than I ever would have liked."
She finally talked him into giving her the help she needed - though, it had taken very little prodding. It was obvious that they liked one another. Or, maybe she was just reading into it, but he seemed to be picking up everything she put down, and throwing it right back at her.
"All I ask is that you help me with something tonight in return for those maps you need, Hawke. My friend who was in the circle with me back in Ferelden – Karl, was brought here when the circle needed new talent." He spit the last word out like it carried the plague with it, and continued. "I need to find him, to break him free and get him out of there. The circles here, they're nothing like the ones in Ferelden. People are made tranquil even after passing their harrowing, and I fear he is next." His eyes were sorrowful and he worried at his lip and she found herself unable to say no.
She grabbed Varric from outside and the three of them headed to The Hanged Man for Isabela – she was wicked with her blades and Marian had no doubt she'd be perfect against some unruly Templars.
Finally it was night and they reached the steps of the chantry, watching the sun fall from the sky before they climbed the steps and made their way inside.
"Do me a favor, don't tell my brother and sister about this." She was staring right at Varric when she said it – he had the biggest most loveable mouth.
"Why do you have to look at me when you say things like that, Hawke?"
Isabela interjected "Because you like to tell everyone everything, chest hair – I mean, Varric."
"Oh, please. Ahem! Eyes up here, Rivaini."
Anders let out a chuckle when Marian looked his way. "This is what I deal with every day. Welcome to my life."
Everyone grew quiet when they realized the chantry was completely empty aside from them.
Isabela wasted no time disappearing into the shadows. Hawke felt Anders move closer to her, his breath barely touching the side of her neck.
"Thank you for this," he whispered.
She simply smiled. She told him she would do anything to help a fellow mage and she wasn't lying. Here she was, watching Isabela signal them up the stairs with staff ready in hand.
It's what her father would have done, anyway.
Marian let out a gasp of horror that echoed Ander's desperate cry as Karl turned around, that sunburst brand fresh upon his forehead. They were too late.
"I knew you wouldn't give up," Karl spoke. "That is why I was made an example of. Here they are templars." Templars seemed to come from the shadows that surrounded them. Isabela looked incredibly pissed and was steadying her blades as Varric sneered and loaded up Bianca. They were ready for battle.
"No! You will not take another mage as you took him!" Anders' voice grew dark and haunted as he spoke, his skin coming to life with blue light, his eyes vacant and replaced with the burning of a thousand suns. Rage rippled from him in pure energy, making Marian's hairs stand straight up. He smelled like the fade - ozone and fire - and she looked at him in bewilderment.
Anders isn't an abomination, is he? No, he'd look a lot less sexy if he was. This is something completely different. What in the void is he?
Before she had time to react to what she had just seen, a blade came at her with great force. She called forth her magic in a burst of electricity aimed at the offending templar. Anders, or whatever it was that stood beside her, called forth power form the fade, his spells coming from a place of fire and ice while she commanded lightning and force. They moved effortlessly with one another, casting complimenting spells that felled their foes. Isabela snuck up behind them, finishing them off with a quick slice across the neck, while Varric sent arrows that ended up lodged deeply within a templar's skull.
When their foes lay fallen, Anders returned from wherever he was, and he almost fell back, if not for Marian catching him in her arms. He turned and smiled at her weakly, before righting himself and turning to Karl who began to speakife seeming to return to his eyes. Impossible.
"Anders, what did you do? It's as if you brought a piece of the fade with you into this world."
She was still in shock. Anders going all blue and flamey and now Karl wasn't tranquil anymore? "But you're -"
"There's no time for this." Karl's eyes lay sharply upon hers before turning his loving gaze to his friend. "Anders, whatever you have done - I can feel it fading. Please, take my life. The emptiness, the pain - I can't…" Karl placed a hand on Anders' shoulder, leaning his forehead against his in an all-too-tender embrace. Isabela quirked an eyebrow and Marian ignored it. There was no time for Isabela's jokes, not when this man was about to die.
"You can't ask me to do this, Karl." Anders' voice broke.
Without hesitation, Hawke placed a hand affectionately upon his shoulder. "You know just as well as I do that being tranquil is a fate worse than death. Please, Anders. Grant him this mercy."
Then he pulled the dagger from his robes, and she watched with regret as he plunged the dagger into the friend they'd come there to save. "I'm sorry….Karl."
She grabbed his hand and led him away; they couldn't dally. Surely, the templars knew they had men there, as well as Karl. Others would be coming.
She hadn't let go of his hand the whole way back to his clinic, not even when they said goodbye to Isabela and Varric as they parted to spend their night at The Hanged Man.
Even though he looked ready to burst at the seams, somewhere between uncontrollable sobbing and leveling the whole of Kirkwall with one spell, he never let go of her hand. She had dried tears on her face that she had been wiping away with her free hand - she had been weeping for Karl half the way to Anders' clinic, her father's words replaying in her head. No mage should ever suffer being made Tranquil. It's a fate much worse than death.
Once they were safe inside his home, he slid his fingers from her and threw his staff across the room. He let out a howl of something he had been holding onto since he saw his friend fall lifeless to the floor and his spirit crumbled. "Damn the Templars!"
"They don't see us as people," she replied, a deep-seeded anger in her heart that surely matched his now showing light for the first since they'd met.
"Right. They don't care that Karl was someone's son, someone's lover." He gulped.
He sat down before her on a wooden crate and tore the ribbon from his hair, letting his long locks hang loose as he held his head in his hands. "If you're born with Magic, they hear about it. They search your little rat-spit village and find you. They tell your parents they'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of their rights in the eyes of the Maker. If you run away, they hunt you down. Again, and again, and again." That same blue that flared in the chantry illuminated the walls again until she put a hand on his shoulder. When his eyes met hers, they were full of bitter unshed tears.
"I know what you mean. My father was an apostate. He took my mother away from her nobility in Kirkwall, and they ran together. After all those years of running, the Templars finally found my father and took him away from us. Those bastards killed him right in front of my whole family." She hugged herself at the memory of her mother screaming until her voice was gone, holding her father's lifeless body so tight to her that she thought he might have burst. "It's just not right."
"Andraste's words were that magic must not rule over man. It's not ruling to simply wish the same rights for everyone, magic or no. Doesn't every mage deserve the freedom you and your father had?"
She simply agreed. Suddenly as if struck by a brilliant idea she smiled and headed for the door. "My sister as well. My father wasn't always free either, you know. It seems we have a lot to talk about, and I have a great idea of how to cheer us up. I will be right back."
When Hawke walked back into the clinic, he looked up from his desk and placed his quill in an ink bottle, closing the pages of the book he seemed to be writing.
She pulled out two bottles of wine from the basket she was carrying and uncorked them, handing one to Anders.
"You know, I had a friend like you once," Anders began as he stood up to greet her. "The Warden Commander. We got in all kinds of trouble, I got dragged along. I never thought I'd be doing that again." To that they clinked their bottles and enjoyed the companionable silence for a time.
As the night progressed, they shared things like how they ended up in Kirkwall and old stories of times in Ferelden, fleeing the Templars.
At some point during their evening, they made their way to the docks, their feet hanging over the edge as they sat, casting shadows on the water.
"Thank you for talking with me tonight, Hawke." They both had a beautiful buzz going, half of their bottles gone as they kept each other's pace.
"You know, can tell me anything, Anders. I'll do my best to be there. You'd be surprised how people just tell me their darkest secrets. I must look trustworthy."
"You look - something. True, proud. Like even if you don't agree with me, you'll be honest." He licked his lips, the moon caressing the features before her and he placed his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers letting his thumb trace absentmindedly. "Be careful what you offer."
She shrugged and let out a giggle, and squeezed his hand gently. "I mean it."
"You know, it hasn't even been a full day since we met and I already feel like I've known you my whole life, like I can trust you with anything. I've never had that before. You weren't ever in the circle - thank the Maker, but I will tell you growing up there, everything is about order and rules and the Templars. The Apprentices… we had found ways to make that bearable." He took a deep breath. "Karl and I… he was the first. We could forget that out in the world we were nothing more than Templar slaves."
She understood. When she lived on the run in Ferelden, she had taken comfort her fair share of times, bedding a maid or a man all the same just for the comfort of a warm body. "Did he inspire your merge with the blue guy then? In order to free him?"
"I was actually beginning to wonder when you would bring that up." He let out a sigh, brushing his hair back through his fingers and preparing himself. Whatever he had to say, it was clear it was not easy to be saying. "That had nothing to do with Karl, actually. When I was in the Wardens, we met a spirit called Justice who was trapped outside the Fade, in the body of a dead warden named Kristoff. He was a great friend to me. We often stood up on late nights sharing thoughts on the injustice done to mages. He listened to my stories of being trapped in the circle, and the many ways I escaped. The last time I escaped, before being taken to the Keep they put me in solitary confinement for a year. The only friend I had then was this cat named Whiskers. He'd sneak into my cell and keep me company, let me hold him and pet him. He kept me sane, well – as sane as you can be for being stuck in a cell with barely anything to eat except for rotted bread."
He put the bottle to his lips and she watched as he took a few long drinks, and then looked into her eyes, seeming to be searching for the strength to finish what he started. She wanted to tell him it was fine to stop, but the look on his face said this was something he needed to tell her. "There was a Warden named Roland. We spent every day together with Justice in my last few months in Ferelden . Apparently the wardens knew what I planned with Justice, and decided along with the Templars that I needed to be watched."
He faltered and she offered a sweet smile, he was almost there. She could feel it. "What about the Warden Commander, your friend?"
Anders nodded in response, his jaw clenched tight when the word friend slipped from her lips. "She would have never betrayed me like that. She couldn't have known what they were planning."
"What happened next?" She prodded.
"One day, Rolan and I went out into the woods, I don't even remember why. We came to this part of the forest I had never seen before, and then I fell unconscious. All I remember is Justice coming to me in the fade, offering his assistance for the freedom of mages, and when I woke up Rolan was standing over me, with Templars at his back. I merged with Justice right in front of him, like a fool. Then, I remember nothing but waking up in the middle of a burning forest, with all of the Templars and Rolan bloodied and dismembered – I realized Justice and I had murdered them all. I truly didn't know what would happen when we merged. I figured a willing host, a friend of his, it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse. I remembered thinking as I looked at all the carnage, 'This is not justice. This is not the spirit who was my friend, and my self. What has he become? What have I become? Is there a place for me anywhere?' So I ran somewhere that no one from my past would know me. Somewhere I could possibly call home. Kirkwall." He looked haunted, but he managed a weak smile, waving his hand about grandly.
She slipped her hand from his and his eyes met hers. For the first time since they met he looked so uncertain, his eyes unable to hold hers for more than just a few moments before he'd look at a stack of barrels in the corner, or a docked boat to their right. She took her hand from his and turned to him, standing with little grace and pulling him up with her. They slipped into an embrace and she squeezed tightly, letting all of her empathy and understanding wash over in waves. She truly had nothing to say, and he understood.
He dropped his chin to rest on her head, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "You're the first person I've ever told this, Hawke. Thank you - for not running away." She felt so small in his arms, so comfortable. This close to his chest she could smell his scent and feel the strength in his arms, and she was so reluctant to pull back but did, and then took his hand again.
"Like I said, you can tell me anything."
Soft words carried on until the faint light of dawn crept across their faces. He stood behind her and they watched the sun rise together, then he took her hand and walked her home.
He offered his assistance to her as he said goodbye simply saying "I am yours, if you need me."
She watched him walk away before closing the door to her Uncle's house - if you could call it that - and lost herself in thought.
Saying good bye to him after that made her feel achy.
She almost wished he was the sort of man that would take advantage of the wine and good conversation to have her right there, but the other was glad to find such a perfect gentleman, and friend.
Friend for now. After all, he did say he was mine, didn't he? She felt her heart race.
She smiled to herself as she closed the door to her bedroom, not minding that she'd have to lay on the floor, seeing as Bethany and Carver had spread themselves over her spot, in what looked like an all-out epic battle as they slept.
She stared at the ceiling and ran her fingers over her lips, imagining Anders. It brought back memories of the other night with Fenris, when he'd asked if she'd ever thought of returning home.
Well, Ferelden was lost to the blight. Gamlen's certainly wasn't an option for much longer.
But maybe Kirkwall, with her family, her friends, and especially this man who had entered her life and managed to fiddle his way into her heart overnight…
Maybe Kirkwall could be her new home.