"I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it. Ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love..."
V for Vendetta (2005)
A bolt of lightning streaked across the air and with that the Templar hit the ground with an ungodly crash. The glow from Anders' hand receded. He felt ill, it had taken almost no effort to bring the man down. More and more Templars like him were appearing; weak, sick and crazed from lyrium withdrawal He killed any he could find. Anders hoped it meant that order was in such disarray it couldn't even keep up with supplying Lyrium, but he couldn't know for sure. A small voice at the back of his mind whispered that perhaps some of these Templars were insurgents who chose to mutiny against the order and were cut off. It was a voice separate from Justice, quiet and rare. Whenever it spoke it disturbed them both.
He flipped his hood up back up, thankful that it was nearing winter and didn't appear strange to be wearing one so dark and thick. He trudged away from the body of the dead Templar, hunched forward using his staff as a walking stick, though he did not need it. It was a hideous thing, Anders had modified it by inexpertly hacking off a section from the top and bottom and removing any obvious crystal that might give-away its magical nature. It now had the appearance of a splintered and mutilated tree branch- and likely worked just as well. There were a few fights he'd had in the last few months he wouldn't have made it out of save for Justice.
Although he lived in the North while with the Wardens, Anders still felt as if the land around him were unfamiliar. While hiking through wilderness he moped, it was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself these days. Mostly , though, he thought about Hawke - or Lyrah, as they'd taken to calling her before he'd left. Regret was easy- it was harder to come to terms with the realization that given the choice to do things over, he wouldn't change anything- despite the pain it'd caused her.
The clinic was quieter than usual.
" I'm not touching that" Hawke whispered surreptitiously out the corner of her mouth. They were standing over a patient- writhing and feverish, he was nonetheless completely unaware of them. The wound on his shoulder had festered and was oozing blood, puss and various other foul-smelling fluids.
" I'll say it again," Hawke began, a little louder this time, " I am not touching that". Anders smiled in amusement. This was his first attempt at teaching her to heal using magic- something she had never properly learned, though she would not reveal why.
" That's the beauty of magic" he said, almost laughing, and guided her hand a few inches over the wound with his own. " Okay. Remember how I showed you?". Hawke nodded assertively but a tenseness in her shoulders and the slight downturn of the corners of her mouth told him she was nervous. He did his best to smile encouragingly but it only seemed to increase her anxiety.
Nevertheless she took a deep breath in, then out, and concentrated her gaze toward her hand and the infected wound.
A blue light began to emanate from her palm but it spluttered irregularly and was dimmer than he'd hoped. He'd showed her one of the most basic healing techniques he knew- how to draw out an infection from open flesh. It was surprising given how powerful she was that she was having trouble with it.
Sweat began to show on her forehead after a few minutes, but her expression remained determined. The puss and fluid holding the infection oozed out of the gash, slopping and sliding leisurely before disappearing into nothingness. Anders thought of interrupting her, or helping her- she was clearly exerting much more effort than was needed despite not getting the desired results out of the spell. Finally though, the wound ran only with bright red blood. He gently held her wrist,
" That's enough, You've done it" Anders told her. She dropped her hand, a sigh leaving her in a rush and she toppled, leaning against him slightly.
" Phew, " she said, tired but cheerful, " I have no clue how you do that day in and day out". She righted herself, standing up straight and peering closely at the patient's now-clean gash which was trickling blood." I was awful, wasn't I?" she said,
" It was a good first attempt" Anders offered, straight-faced. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, clearly seeing past his attempt at diplomacy.
"So what now?" she asked.
" Now the wound needs to be closed" he said
" And how do I do that?" Hawke queried after a second's thought. Anders was momentarily taken aback before he smiled,
" I think you've had enough for today, leave that to me". He waited for her to leave.
After an awkward moment of silence Hawke spoke,
"Oh, you don't mind if I stay and watch?"
"Uh, sure- I mean, no I don't" Anders replied haltingly before quickly turning his back on her and facing the patient. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. The sudden realization that he was nervous was like knock to the head. He could feel her behind him, watching over his shoulder. Ridiculous though it might be, he felt his insides squirm and distantly he could feel Justice's confusion. The spirit could not understand, on a fundamental level, what was happening. Anders did his best to block out all thoughts and got underway.
Hawke watched as muscle and tissue knit together before skin crawled over it and joined neatly. There was not a scar or mark where the wound had been, the man breathed deep and evenly in his sleep.
Hawke whistled, the whole thing had only taken a few seconds. She was impressed.
Varric had never had a friend quite like Hawke. In fact Varric hadn't had many friends at all really. Sure, some folks thought they were his friend and he could probably rely on many people he knew to get him out of a tight spot...but his whole life he'd kept everyone at arms length. Being able to brush things off was part of his charm, if you will- and that required never getting too invested.
He wouldn't say he'd changed much since meeting Hawke but he felt responsible for the apostate in a way that he suspected a brother might- which was in itself novel experience. So try though he did to vanquish it, the guilt at having introduced her to Anders kept slithering its way back with increasing frequency. No doubt she would scoff both at the idea that he was responsible for her in any way as well as his remorse at involving Anders in her affairs. Yet he still couldn't help imaging what her life would be like if she and the former Grey Warden had not been introduced.
It was these thoughts and imaginings that tickled uncomfortably at his brain as they arrived at the city of Highever.
" We should check the inns first- and I could use a pint" Hawke said from beneath her hood and Varric knew without being able to see her expression that she was grinning. He took in her appearance, and the guilt snaked in once more. The fortunes of the Champion of Kirkwall had changed in the last year. Nothing had been taken from her estate in the flight from the Free Marches save for the clothes on her back and the items she had on her. Her once rich blue cloak had faded and was stained and travel- worn, and though she did not wear much, they'd sold off any jewelry she had to fund their travels. Saddest of all the she also had abandoned her father's staff- a sore point of discussion. Traveling with such a weapon in these times only brought suspicion and if not outright hostility.
" Remind me why we're here" Varric asked dryly.
" Why you're here, well, honestly I have no clue but I'm here because this is the most peaceful place in Thedas. I'm here because I'm looking for Anders. I'm here because this is the place he is least likely to be- thus the place he most probably is..."
" As usual, your logic is impeccable" Varric said dryly, " but I think we both know why I tagged along for this little adventure of yours"
Hawke went quiet for a moment before staring at him pointedly.
" You should have stayed with Isabela"
" Boats? Ocean?...Water as far as the eye can see? Yeah...no. You might recall me mentioning thats dwarves are lousy swimmers". Hawke cracked a small smile.
" I may remember you say something to that effect...but between the food, the mud, and the dog shit- me dragging you up and down Fereldan is surely not any more pleasant". Varric shrugged.
"Ah, well. Kirkwall was never sunshine and rainbows either...". Hawke silently agreed.
They trudged through the outskirts of town. Highever was smaller than Hawke had suspected but there were no signs of any conflict and their Chantry was still standing. So far Highever was a few notches above Kirkwall in her opinion, dog shit or no. The passed under a large iron portcullis and entered the main section of town, trudging tiredly over the cobbled street.
Hawke kept expecting to see some signs of the mage rebellion sweeping the land but their were no templars, no wanted posters, or bounties up for apostates. The people going about their day were solemn but unsuspicious- a change she was grateful for after traversing a land steeped in paranoia. Things had not been easy for her. The kingdom publicly maintained its alignment with the Chantry even though there where whispers of a schism between the Divine and the Templar order. The rebellion had left the Templars in a shambles but the paranoia and intolerance of the people easily made up for it- stories of suspected mages being executed or murdered by townspeople were becoming more frequent
Before long she and Varric reached the a broken down inn, which a badly spelled sign informed her was called,'The Warden's Post'. She allowed herself a brief moment of amusement before crossing the threshold. Thankfully the interior was a good deal better than the outside and they were instantly greeted by a hulking mass of a man,
" You there" he said, blocking their way after no more than two steps inside, " You got coin?"
Hawke and Varric shared a look in silence before the man spoke again, more harshly, " No coin no entry".
" Don't get you apron in a tangle there. We got coin" said Varric and nodded to Hawke who surrender their last few bronze bits and one silver.
The inn keeper harrumphed dramatically, as if finding their offering wanting but eventually moved out their way and growled, " That'll get one room, one night and some dinner".
Both Hawke and Varric wordlessly fumed at the blatant thievery but did nothing. Raising a fuss over such things, they had found, would only draw scrutiny. They made their way up a splintering staircase to a sparse room.
" It's almost as bad as the Hanged Man" Hawke said lightly, as they stood in the doorway and surveyed the space, "- but without the rats"
" or the charm" the dwarf replied, a touch mournfully. Hawke smiled,
" you take the bed first, get some rest. I'm gonna look around town a bit"
"-You're just as exhausted as me" Varric cut in,
" Varric," Hawke said sighing, " Let's be honest, for every one stride I take you have to take three"
" You realize that's kind of offensive, " the dwarf answered, somewhat sullenly, kicking off his boots, "...and your pretty short for a human"
"Still taller than, you though" she quipped, before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Right before it shut she watched her friend collapse onto the small cot and threadbare linen.
She was irked, Hawke thought to herself. Irked that her best friend couldn't leave her be, that he insisted on accompanying her on a quest that was going nowhere. Irked that he was endangering himself to search for a man that he owed nothing to and had every right to despise- that in fact she had every right to despise. It irked her.
Varric's constant presence and her feeling of responsibility toward him threw in sharp relief the idiocy of what she was doing. Anders had abandoned them and thereafter evaded her every attempt to locate him. This was of course leaving out the fact that he was responsible, first-hand, for the deaths of hundreds of people and had also set fire to Thedas, beginning a rebellion that was claiming more lives every day.
But she couldn't let it go, she loved him - or had loved him. Hawke was at all sure anymore. Scarcely a month after they had fled Kirkwall he'd disappeared without explanation. At first she feared he'd been abducted by agents of the Chantry or Templars- or anyone else of the large number of people after him. She'd begun to mourn him when rumor came of his appearance in Ferelden. Immediately Hawke had made for the homeland she'd fled almost a decade earlier. Although her journey back on Isabela's new ship proved far more comfortable than her voyage to the City of Chains.
Deep in the bilge of the ship Hawke sat on an empty crate, grayish water lapped at her ankles as the world around her creaked and shifted. The ceiling was so low even she could not stand up straight in the space and even in the darkness its oppressive presence was felt. She amused herself by seeing how far she could shoot small flashes of light until the blinked and died in the damp darkness.
A splash sounded beneath the trapdoor a few meters away before sloshing footsteps grew closer.
" Why don't you just do fireworks display on deck, sister. You know, now that you don't care who knows what you are"
" Relax Carver, " she said, unruffled, and conjured up a wisp of pale light in her hand, illuminating their gaunt faces- hers was blank, his twisted and angry. Still neither looked at each other when they spoke.
" How can I relax? we've been sailing for ages without end and everyday you grow more careless with your magic"
" What are they going to do? Throw me overboard? They may all play dumb but even the other refugees must have noticed by now how the barrels of fresh water don't seem to be running dry, or how every storm always manages to narrowly miss us". Carver was silent for a long moment,
" That's entirely something else- don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you healed the elf's son"
" So what if I did?" she said, unfazed.
" The child would have survived without magic. This is not the time to get sentimental" Carver hissed, she scoffed at his assumption.
" I just eased his suffering a bit- and maybe I did it to get a break from all the crying and moaning" Hawke replied and Carver sighed impatiently,
" And if word spreads and the others come to you?"
" The joke would be on them, I'm useless at healing - all that was was a liitle pain relief"
" Don't be dense. Even if you were some use at it, anybody here would sell you out for a crust of bread as soon as we get to Kirkwall"
" Well, at least I would be free from your endless nagging in the Circle". Hawke said, putting on a dramatic voice.
" I suppose it means little that if you're ever caught Mother and I are likely to be arrested as well. You know what, though, if that wasn't the case, I might be glad to hand you over" Carver said cruelly and the light in Hawke's hand flickered out. She waited in the darkness for him to take back his words but instead she heard him turn and begin to leave
Amidst the sloshing of his exiting footsteps he said quietly, " You should come up top, the Captain says its not safe down here anyway"
Hawke conjured the light in her hand again and stared at it blankly, wondering when their bickering had taken such a savage edge, wondering when the blighted voyage would end.
The sun had set by the time Hawke got back to the inn. She'd left with the purpose of exploring the town but had instead backtracked to the outlying farms they had passed when they'd entered. She'd said nothing at the time of course, but the area reminded her painfully of Lothering before the Blight and brought on a fresh wave of nostalgia and sadness. It wasn't the first or likely to be the last time she'd felt as such since returning to Ferelden. After the Blight had ended she always wondered what kept her from returning and now realized that a part of her had known coming back would be painful. Since the darkspawn razed Lothering and after Bethany's death there really was no going home.
Upon entering the inn she came across an alarming scene. A young man was harassing the large innkeeper, who for his size and brawn, seemed particularly reluctant in his efforts to get him to leave. It might've had something to do with the boy's bedraggled, gaunt and overall forlorn appearance.
" Please ser" he begged, " I need a job. I can clean and I'm real good at cooking". From the innkeeper's expression Hawke guessed that the argument had been going on for quite some time .
"Sorry boy, I'm not taking on anyone at the moment. Now get out of here- I won't ask you a again". Sighing sadly, he turned and almost collided with Hawke on his way out.
" Wait, " Hawke said, taking pity on him and turning the innkeeper, " I think I can scrounge up a few bits for an extra plate of food"
The boy stopped at the door,
" Don't waste your coppers. The teyrn sees that his kind are fed"
Hawke was immediately intrigued to discover what exactly he meant by "his kind". To her, there nothing particularly special about him and she could sense no magic in him either, " Thanks for your concern" Hawke said sarcastically, " but do you want my money or not?"
The innkeeper grumbled as he nodded and disappeared. Hawke turn her attention the the young man who had been quietly standing beside her.
Varric awoke to a dark room, realizing how long he'd been out - and that Hawke had not returned.
" Ah, well" he sighed rolling off the bed reluctantly, pulled on his boots and picked up his crossbow, " C'mon Bianca, let's go see what trouble Hawke gotten herself into this time"
Thankfully, he didn't have to go far. After groggily slumping down the staircase he looked up to find Hawke deep in conversation with what appeared to a young vagrant.
" i see you made a friend" he said, pulling up a chair and stealing Hawke's ale. Hawke granted him a wry smile before turning back to the boy,
" This is Varric, my associate I was telling you about. Varric this Gaven" She said introducing them in turn. The kid quietly nodded at Varric who lifted his mug in acknowledgment. " Gaven, here traveled all the way from Denerim with his little sister- although he won't tell me why". Varric snorted with amusement into his ale,
" Trust me kid, she may not look it, but whatever you or your sister's done I can tell you Lyrah here's done worse" Varric offered. Despite having been doing so for almost a year, Varric could still not get used to calling his friend by her first name. They'd decided it was probably a good idea for for him and those that knew her, to do so in public- wanted by Templars and the Chantry, the name Hawke was too well known. Much to his chagrin, Varric realized, this was probably his doing.
The boy said nothing, instead staring determinedly down at his plate of food. Varric shrugged, unfazed, before Hawke cut in.
" Seems there's a small camp on the other side of town" she said, " People having been trickling in and out of it for a few months now. Since Kirkwall happened"
" Why do you think that is?" asked Varric, but he'd guessed the answer anyway. Those in the camp were likely anybody who'd gotten uprooted because of the mage rebellion and if Varric were a gambling man, which he was, he'd bet on a large portion of them being mages. The real question was why here, why Highever?
Gaven spoke finally, answering them, "The teyrn don't let the templars in the camp. He says there're no mages allowed, but he still won't let the templars in". A look passed between Hawke and Varric,
" And he gives you all food?"
Gaven nodded, seemingly to relieved and simultaneously surprised that his admission had not caused them to immediately attack him.
" But not enough - and no one in town'll hire us"
Hawke and Varric let the conversation die after this point, not wanting to spook the boy. The existence of what sounded like a refugee camp was intriguing- but not as intriguing as the fact that the Teyrn was apparently feeding and protecting its inhabitants from the Templars.
They finished their meals in silence and Hawke resolved to visit the camp the following morning.
Thanks for reading. Please review! Also feel free to check out my DA:O and Mass Effect fics that are also currently running.
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