The Champion of Kirkwall huddled under her thin blanket, far from sleep. Every time she tried to close her eyes, she saw horrible things—young men and women broken and bleeding on the flagstones, bodies burned and crushed. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander pushed to retaliate, pushed to do terrible things because of one man and his actions.

Anders stirred against her before settling back into an uneasy sleep. His chin rested on her shoulder as Marian drew her knees up against her chest. He curled against her and she knew she should feel comforted. Her mind was troubled.

These long hours when sleep would not come were harder than the bright days spent walking in the wilderness. They had no direction, only away. Away from Kirkwall, away from Starkhaven. Away from everything. Sooner or later they would have to settle somewhere. She couldn't continue to drag them, her friends, through the countryside. She couldn't confide her nightmares to anyone, not even her lover. He suffered enough already without bearing her worries as well.

Her mind turned back to the events at the Gallows, before they had slipped out of the city with Knight-Captain Cullen's hard eyes on their backs. She pressed her knuckles over her mouth as she thought of Fenris, the anger written large on his face, and how she cut him down when he stood against her. They had not seen eye to eye on the subject of mages, but she had known him almost since the beginning of her time in Kirkwall. He was still a companion and it still hurt to lose him.

Anders twitched and muttered but did not wake. Despite everything, she did love him. There were many reasons to tell him to leave, even if she could not bring herself to kill him as Sebastian and Meredith demanded. After losing Carver and her mother, she could not lose him too. She did not forgive him for his actions but she did, perhaps, understand. They had not spoken of it since leaving Kirkwall. Speaking of it would change nothing, would solve nothing. She withstood the sidelong looks but her friends never said anything. Even Varric was silent.

Marian let her breath out and eased over onto her back. She stared up at the fabric of the tent and listened to the sounds of her sleeping friends around her.

"I'm sorry," Anders whispered. She shuddered at the brush of his lips against her neck. "Forgive me. I'm sorry."

She looked at him quickly but his breathing was light and even. He still slept. In the dying light of the campfire, his brow was creased in pain. As she watched him it smoothed again. The only tension in his face was around his eyes where the skin was pinched all the time.

At some point she must have slept. The campfire had burnt down to embers barely visible through the side of the tent and the sky was tinged with grey. Birds sang from the trees nearby.

She rolled onto her side toward Anders, who lay facing her. His eyes opened as soon as she moved. The pain in them was unmistakable. He reached out and they embraced loosely under the blanket, knees touching, heads together.

"Marian, I—"

Before he could say anything more she put her hand across his mouth. She knew from the look of anguish on his face what he had been about to say, and she couldn't bear to hear it. Not yet. Maybe later, but not yet.

"I made my choice back at the Gallows. I love you."

She moved her fingers and replaced them with her lips. Anders was still for a moment as if debating whether to respond or try to continue to speak. It wasn't long before he decided and returned her kiss.

A/N- So it's been quite awhile since I've written anything. I hope this conveys the conflict I felt when I finished the game, wondering what happens next. Big hearts to Bioware, Dragon Age, and you for reading.