My Maker, know my heart
Take from me a life of sorrow
Lift me from a world of pain
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride
(Transfigurations 12)
He wakes up slowly; the dreamy webs of the Fade are still fogging his mind. Glad for the little rest between his darkspawn nightmares, the mage yawns widely and shifts. A warm, familiar body is lying next to his; a muscular arm lies across his torso protectively, trying to shelter him even in his dreams. Anders smiles as he presses closer to the solid warmth of his lover. He inhales the oh-so-familiar smell of leather, cedar, sweat and the citrus soap his lover favors. The man next to him grunts sleepily and pulls Anders even closer, as if he wants them to melt into one.
Wake up," Anders murmurs gently as he kisses his lover's shoulder. "Nate, wake up. Who's the sleepyhead now?"
Stormy grey eyes open in an instant. Anders loves these short moments of proximity when they are waking up together, limbs entwined and exchanging lazy kisses. Sometimes they even have some spare time for lovemaking or a simple conversation. Those rare minutes of pure joy where only the two of them exist and no one can pull them apart... he treasures those moments of just being together above everything else.
Lately they have less and less of them. With all those duties on Nathaniel's shoulders as the new Commander of the Grey Wardens, there are days, sometimes even weeks, when they can see each other only at night. Even then, most of the time, at least one of them is exhausted enough to simply fall into their bed, half asleep already, with unlaced boots.
Gavrien Tabris, the Hero of Ferelden, had disappeared a few years ago without any warning, taking his favorite daggers and loyal mabari with him. All he left behind was a formal letter transferring his title as the Commander of Grey to Nathaniel Howe. His sudden disappearance was publically explained as one of the most terrible of the Wardens' traditions, the Calling.
Perhaps it's the truth, perhaps it is not. The healer doesn't believe they'll ever find out what really made him throw everything away so suddenly. Anders still mourns him; he is quite sure Gavrien is dead by now, and knows Nathaniel thinks so too.
Anders will never forgive himself for not being able to say goodbye to him. He was one of his friends, and Anders hadn't had many of those during his life. True friends were rare as dragons.
Another reason for self-loathing... as if he didn't have enough of those.
Thinking about Commander Tabris leads him to those sweet memories of his youth, when he had been carefree, and full of hopes, and drunk with his newfound freedom. He catches himself missing those days again. A year of happiness with Gavrien Tabris and the other members of their weird team. He remembers their gatherings together after another adventure, the alcohol and silly pranks. The bonds of brotherhood, the closest thing to a family he has ever had. His first, true love and his fear to commit to it, which led him to run away from it, from Nathaniel Howe.
There is no place, now, for being carefree and light-hearted. There are too many worries, too much uncertainty about the future, clouding above his shards of happiness. A war is tearing Thedas apart, templars and their followers against mages and their sympathizers, and every day the fighting grows fiercer.
He frowns, unhappy, forever guilty. Would be there have been another future if he hadn't destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry four years ago? Would be the future any brighter for mages then? For him? Anders wishes he could know the answer to those questions. The events of that fateful day still haunt his nightmares from time to time.
A heavy palm strokes his head; a seemingly simple gesture, but full of concern and tenderness. Nathaniel watches him silently. He knows Anders from inside out after so many years together.
"I'm fine. Let's get dressed or we'll be late for breakfast." Anders says and Nathaniel doesn't press the issue. He has learned when to let it go.
They put clothes on swiftly. Nathaniel steals a few kisses. Anders smiles at him and receives a smile back. The mage feels his crew-cut, which has grown too long again. He'll have to ask Nathaniel to cut it for him, and he'll nuzzle into his mage's chestnut-dyed hair as he always does and whisper into Anders's ear how kitten-soft it is.
Anders suspects he will never find out exactly how Nathaniel had arranged a very authentic-looking document of transference for a mage warden from the Anderfelds. Had that warden even been real and if he had... what had happened to him? Actually, Anders doesn't want to know; he keeps his mouth firmly shut on the questions. It's safer that way.
Whatever Nathaniel Howe had done, he'd gone to great lengths to keep Anders (now known as Yourgen) alive and protected. It's similar to declaring war against the world, Anders thinks, putting everything at risk just for him. If that wasn't love, he didn't know what was. If Nathaniel is ever found out, Anders is sure not even the status of Warden Commander would protect his lover. He's afraid even to think about it, terrified a mere thought will turn it into a reality.
But their relationship is not a secret to be hidden, now, and he has learned to avoid the curious, measuring stares. It hadn't been easy at first, but with time he has grown used toprying eyes. He has learned through the years that human nature cannot be changed.
"Warden Yourgen," they greet him in the dining hall. He politely nods at them and returns the greeting.
Muscular Theodor, with his two swords, is sitting in Sigrun's former place. The dwarf rogue will never smile at Anders again; a year and a half ago, an ogre carved its way through her and to Velanna, silencing their familiar voices forever.
Oghren had followed them only a month later, protecting Nathaniel until his last breath, and leaving another name for Anders to mourn. The list was long, beginning with Karl and ending with the stinky red-headed berserker. He couldn't save any of them. All his healing powers, useless. He was always too late, too weak.
They share a plain breakfast: bread, cheese, eggs and the honeyed tea Anders favors. Nathaniel makes sure there is always honey tea for his lover, spoiling him in small ways.
Once the meal is done, Anders presses his lips to Nathaniel's, and is unsure whether the comfort is meant for him or his lover. A moment of consideration is enough to decide that the warm contact is balm for both of them.
Their paths part until the evening.