Chapter One

Divide


Hawke sat in the flimsy chair, elbows on his knees, cradling his head as he watched Anders sleep. The magisters had warned that he would need rest soon after the business in the Fade was finished. The spirit's presence draining away would leave him exhausted, as would the remnants of the mixture they'd provided to send the healer into an unwilling sleep. Merrill had offered to come upstairs and let them know when the evening meal was served, but he wasn't sure he'd want to eat by that time. He certainly hadn't had an appetite after the morning romp through his lover's worst nightmare. He didn't doubt that Anders would see the necessity of all the subterfuge, at least eventually, but that didn't stop his stomach roiling at the fact of his treachery.

Presently Anders stirred, waking slowly. After a brief moment the blond man seemed to shudder under the blanket, testing his freedom. Watching him have to reassure himself that he wasn't bound, Hawke felt a new knife in his gut.

"Have you been there all this time?" Anders asked as he levered himself up, seeing his outer clothes from this morning folded atop the small table the room held.

"I didn't want you to wake alone. Anders, I… I'm sorry."

Rising, Anders reached for the breeches, then the robes, and crossed the small room to lean back against the chest of drawers, wincing mentally at the pain that flickered over the mage's face at the increased distance. He trusted this man, loved him, and couldn't quite put his finger on what had him uneasy. Or not all of it, anyway. But here was something he could offer. "If you could have freed me earlier, before I'd woken up, you would have. I know that, really. I just… need a minute to remind myself."

Hawke sat upright in his chair, sighing quietly as he caught a hint of the healer's lingering scent, mixed with the odd floral soap the inn allowed its guests for baths. "It's not that, or not only. It's all the deception, it's sneaking a sleeping draught into your tea, it's…"

"It's all the steps you had to take to keep Justice from finding out what you planned to do. And now you're letting guilt scrape through your belly because he wasn't the only one you deceived, and you can just stop it. I never imagined I'd have myself back, Davin, and everything you did was for me, not to me. If I'm shaken every now and again because something out of my past comes up and makes me question why you're still with me, in spite of everything you've ever said, it's not your failing."

"Is that why you're shaken now?" The thickness in his love's voice had him suppressing every urge to cross the room and stand with him, be near him. But what if that's wrong? Would he see it as another restraint, so soon after this morning?

Nodding slowly, Anders silently cursed Justice, and the Templars, and the Circles, and everything else in his history that had conspired to make him such a pitiful wreck of a man in the face of the one person who had never judged him. "You saw it. You saw what happened to Rolan. I know better, I do, but after-" Now the healer turned toward the bureau, resting on his elbows and driving the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the brewing storm. "You've now seen for yourself all the worst things I've ever done. It's weak of me, and it's not fair to you, but part of me is just waiting for you to realize what a monster you dragged with you and walk away."

"All the worst things you've ever done were prompted by the demon we spent the morning killing, were they not?" Hawke held up a hand as Anders turned to set him straight. "I know you told me months ago, even the night of, that it was you who set off all that business you placed in the Chantry. Are you going to try to convince me that Justice had nothing at all to do with getting you to the point that you were prepared to do it? That all of the nightmares and pain that threw themselves at you before you found yourself on that edge came from you?"

"I… no." Anders deflated, wondering where the mage was going.

"You haven't done anything monstrous, Anders. You've taken part in some awful things, sure, but with a demon playing on your emotions and twisting you all about, you can't take all of the blame. I don't even think you can take the lion's share of it, knowing who you are on your own. You'll stay with us, you'll continue to stand for other people as is your nature, and you'll atone for your part in things. But I'm not going to believe that a man whose calling and whose one great joy in life is caring for others should bear that much blame for either of the events you're currently punishing yourself over."

Anders closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to hear that, how strongly he'd needed some validation of who he was, now that Anders was all he was. "Thank you. I haven't said it yet, but I mean for everything. For Justice, for telling me off just now, for tolerating me while I've tortured myself since the Chantry, for reminding me what I am."

Sensing the coast was clear, Hawke stood and moved to the healer, who allowed himself to be held, now. "The others feel the same, you know. Fenris said once – not long before we got on the ship and found our way here, in fact – that you're not a mage. He said you're a healer, and he called you such while he was well aware of what Justice was trying to do to you."

"I wondered why he would have been so supportive. I guess, with the way things have gone since then, have I been thinking too hard about us not-"

Whatever question he had started to ask was interrupted by a knock at the door, which promptly eased open enough for Merrill's head to appear just above the knob. "Oh! Good! You're awake! They've got things ready for supper downstairs, and the two of you haven't eaten all day. Come on, then."

When neither man moved, the elf pushed her way through the door and took each of them by the hand, determined to get them down into the common room.

"One day," Hawke muttered, trying not to worry about what Anders had been about to ask, "I will learn how to lock a bloody door."

"Why?" Merrill immediately gasped. "I missed something dirty. I just bet I did."

Anders's laugh sounded a bit forced, even to himself, but he resolved to put his question away. It wasn't something he'd have been fully comfortable discussing when they were at their closest, and now… If Davin's curious, he can ask me. After everything he's done, after everything I did, I can't ask for anything more.


"Good!" Carver reached over the table to clap the healer on the shoulder when he sat down opposite. "Glad to see you're up and about after all the excitement."

Oh, Maker. They've all seen it too, and they… they're letting it go, but I have to say something. "Listen, all of you-"

"Spare us the gratitude, Anders. We seek no reward for acting correctly," Fenris offered no expression from the other end of the table, his chair leaned back against the wall.

"Don't mind him, Brother." Carver flashed a cheeky grin at the elf. "He's just testy it's him who lost his sword earlier. You sitting, Davin, or do you plan to lurk while you eat?"

"Lurking has potential," Hawke hooked an empty chair from the next table with his foot and scooted it over. If Anders seemed tense when he reached for his hand under the table, well… He'd have to get over it. He'd figure it out soon enough. "Any news from down south?"

"Not that we've heard," Merrill chirped in, "and the surly barkeep over there said I'm not allowed to ask him again until tomorrow morning. I swear you'd think people would have some sympathy for refugees anxious for word." Her expression said clearly that she'd kept up the lie they'd concocted, and was proud of having done so.

"That's all right, then," Carver's expression softened as he addressed the elf. "I'll ask him after we eat."

"Now, now, boys and girls, let's not irritate our host." Hawke fell silent as one of the barmaids came round with bowls of the evening's stew and a pitcher to top off the mugs. He grinned as she slapped his arm and told Carver to mind what he'd said.

Absently, Anders reached for his mug before deciding, "Perhaps I should stick with water, after-"

"Drinking water after ridding yourself of the one thing that stopped you becoming intoxicated for the better part of a decade almost sounds… blasphemous," Fenris suggested.

"Maybe I'm a weepy drunk, and don't want to saddle you with the baggage, eh?" the healer relaxed a bit, finding his place in the camaraderie.

"And you with a big strong man to be weepy at? Perish the thought," Carver scoffed, with a wink for Hawke.

"Well, Carver, if you're offering…" Anders let his voice trail off.

"I, er… What I meant was… Huh. Well played."

The chorus of laughter that followed was interrupted as the front door, situated against one of Minrathous's main thoroughfares, slammed open and knocked against the wall. A petite woman, clad in traveling leathers that matched her dark hair, paused half-inside the tavern, her arm extended and alight with raw mana and her voice carrying up the street. "Yeah, you heard me! Pinch the other one, go on! It'll be your short hairs that flare up next!"

"Doesn't she look familiar?" Merrill trilled, studying the features of the newcomer as she closed the door and extinguished the display around her hand.

"She does bear a striking resemblance to some in our acquaintance, yes," this from Fenris, who added, "in demeanor as well as appearance."

"I resemble that remark," Hawke grinned at the elf. "But it couldn't be… Could it?"

"Can and is, dear cousin," The woman had reached their table then, and without ceremony grabbed Hawke's tankard and drained it. "Been on a boat at the dock all bloody day with traders who are in and out of here every time they turn around. Not a one cowed by magical talent, so I was stuck waiting for the freight to shove off before they'd let me out on land. Danica Amell," Offering a hand to the elves and Anders, she then moved around to hug Hawke and his brother in turn.

"Lovely to meet you in person, Cousin, but how in the bloody Void did you find us here?"

"Oh, you're safe. Some gentleman you are, going straight for my story without buying me a drink first."

"I believe I just did," Hawke said, smiling to himself at the resemblance he heard and waving for a barmaid to see to his cousin.

"That was a loan. Anyway, I had an… interest," Danica paused, glancing at Anders, "in joining you here. Once I figured out where you'd turn up, it wasn't hard at all to find you. And now I come to see you, I think I do recognize you from the Circle, even if we never did say hello to each other."

"If you're being sneaky for Justice's sake, Danica, you can rest easy. He was seen to this morning."

"What?" This from Danica and Anders, both equally shocked.

"Peace, Anders. Danica mentioned in one of her letters to me that the King had seen one of those Fade rituals go successfully, so when I started… plotting… I wrote her for details."

Anders visibly relaxed. She's Davin's family, after all. I suppose it should have occurred to me to wonder how he'd know what was needed.

Danica remained displeased. "You couldn't have waited one bloody day? Dozens of times I've made Alistair tell me about that ritual. I wanted to see one. Damn it. Put off my bloody wedding for this trip, too, these things being as rare as they are."

"Wedding?" Carver sat up, intent on the idea of new family connections.

"Yes. Wedding. You know? Two people, they fall in love, and because one's cousin had to go and get the family nobility restored they're now expected to stand in front of all sorts of other nobility and spout off humiliating pap about their feelings for one another instead of happily living in sin in the eyes of the Maker." Danica broke off to offer her thanks to the girl who set down a fresh bowl and mug for her.

Hawke burst out laughing as his cousin attacked her stew with vigor. "You say that like it's the last thing in the world you'd want to do, but I can see the happiness on you. Have to apologize if I missed a letter, but tell us. Who is the lucky bastard?"

Danica's eyes twinkled. She let her spoon fall back into the bowl and lifted her hand, drawing stunned looks from Hawke and Anders as she stretched a spark between her thumb and middle finger. "His Majesty has apparently always had a fondness for magical things."

Utterly scandalized, Anders spouted, "You're marrying the bloody King?"

"Now you see what I mean about the whole nobility thing. I can now, and it's even a politically advantageous tie to the Free Marches. And keep your voice down. Alistair will thank you not to get me assassinated while I'm away from Denerim."

Anders had the decency to look abashed for a moment before grinning. "They must love you at court, all subtlety and grace."

"I can behave myself. Most of the time," she amended, digging into a bag fastened to her waist. Tossing a letter at Hawke, she offered, "Here. This stew and I need some quiet time. Read that. Oh! Where's Isabela? I have a few words for her after Wycome."

"Wycome?" Hawke asked, ignoring the message after pulling it out of its envelope. "We were there less than a day, re-provisioning."

"I know that," Danica mumbled around a mouth full of stew. "I almost caught you there, and got stuck waiting another week for another ship headed this way. The harbormaster said you'd pushed off the docks not an hour before I arrived, you impatient bastard. I had to pretend my long-lost sister was on that boat to get him to tell me where you were bound. Now read."

Hawke turned his eyes to scan the letter, stopping short halfway through and giving it his full attention. It bore the official seal of the city of Kirkwall, which was cause for some alarm, but his surprise only grew as he read through it. Noting the familiar script at the end, he barked out a laugh before whispering, "I see she got my note," and passing the letter to Anders.


To His Majesty the King of Ferelden, Alistair Theirin

Your Majesty,

The City-State of Kirkwall in the Free Marches greets you warmly, and offers its congratulations on your impending nuptials to a member of one of our most highly regarded families. Should you wish to pursue that connection in hopes of cementing the tentative alliance proposed during your last visit here, please rest assured that you will find this office most amenable to any future overtures you may make in that regard.

Your offers of assistance with rebuilding, as well as your offer to extradite the mage Anders should he make himself known within your borders, are very much appreciated. I wish to make you aware of recent developments where these events are concerned. Evidence has come to light in this matter painting a much different picture than that which was immediately apparent. It has been proven to the satisfaction of my court, during consideration of high justice, that the role played by Anders in the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry has been minimal.

We have entrusted our Champion to carry out full justice against those most responsible, and have entered a judgment of service against Anders, in absentia. We have reviewed evidence presented concerning his history, and have learned that he has only previously garnered attention through his endeavor to heal the ill and assist those in charitable need prior to any previous arrests by Chantry representatives. Provided that he continues in this fashion, we would not wish to trouble you with the expense of extradition. Rather, if he proves himself of use within your borders, we will consider our judgment satisfied on your word that he is performing works toward the greater good, regardless of the jurisdiction receiving the benefit thereof.

Yours in faith to the Maker,

Viscountess Aveline Hendyr

City-State of Kirkwall, Free Marches

Alistair, I thank you for the informal introduction you provided me on your recent visit. Should you feel the need to address me formally and conveniently forget the frippery of the "-ess" associated with my official title, it will not come amiss. Of course, "Aveline" works just as well. Don't worry about Bran. I'll sort him out sooner or later.


"Viscountess? Her?" Anders tossed the letter on the table and let himself settle for a moment, before his mind snapped back to what Hawke had said before erupting again. "What do you mean, she got your note? When did you send her a note? What did you tell her?"

Hawke smiled, thinking more of his old friend's postscript than his love's reaction to the letter, and reached for his drink. Merrill scrambled out of her chair to grab the letter, and Carver tried not to look too uncomfortable reading over her shoulder.

Setting down his mug, Hawke answered, "I told her the truth. Smuggled a note into the post to her before we left at our first port, told her what our plans were. Didn't tell her where we'd end up, but I did let her know what our intentions with Justice were. Managed to be very convincing, without betraying any confidences I might add, in my belief that if Justice hadn't been involved, the whole thing never would have happened."

"I… But my role in it…"

"Was minimal. We discussed that earlier."

Carver cut in to address Anders, passing the letter to Fenris and thinking briefly that only his brother would have taken the time to teach a fugitive former slave, friend or no, to read. Thinking of the conversations he'd either overheard or been part of on the ship, he knew he had the healer dead to rights. "That all sounds about right. Now you tell me, Brother, if you wouldn't be healing and doing your good works regardless of your circumstances, and that doing so would be needed for you to believe you're setting things right."

"I… would be, yes, and I would feel that way. Well." Anders settled, focused on his mug, and contemplated. Now he was worried again about the distance that had sprouted between himself and Davin since everything that happened that night in Kirkwall. It was there, he couldn't be imagining it, but then halfway through the journey he goes and plants a bug like this in Aveline's ear. Just what is going on in his head? Moving to a more immediate topic, he flagged Danica's attention. "How did you find us here?"

"As I said, got the bloke on the docks in Wycome to tell me where the Siren's Call was headed, once I realized it had gone. Alistair… knows… Isabela, after all, and couldn't imagine she'd be out the day of all that business in Kirkwall without you lot on board. Where is she, anyway?"

"She's back out at sea," Merrill answered, still wistful over the departure of her friend. "It took us close to a month to get everything sorted for the business with Justice, and she would have stayed, but then she ran into someone in the market and had to go in a hurry."

At Danica's raised eyebrow, Fenris elaborated. "This someone had paid a significant amount of gold for a number of slaves being transported here. Isabela grounded the ship carrying those slaves and freed them."

"Yep. Just like Alistair remembers her."

"But once you were in the city," Anders pressed, "how did you know which of the thousands of rooms to let we'd taken?"

"Hmm? You led me here, actually." Danica reached into one of her packs. "You're in the way of being family, so even before I asked Alistair had supplies for my trip rounded up and made ready for me. One of them was this."

Anders stilled as he saw what she held as her hand retreated. He didn't have to ask what it was; any mage trapped in a Circle for any length of time in their lives would recognize a cut glass vial, ringed with gold, glowing faintly with the color of the blood it contained. How many times had he thought of his phylactery over the years and wished he could lay hands on it? Now that it was here, within arm's reach, he couldn't gather the breath to ask what would become of it.

Danica raised it to eye level as if inspecting it, and then made a show of opening her fingers. She thought it could at least have made a more musical sound as it shattered on the tavern floor. Winking at the healer whose relationship to her cousin she knew well, she smiled broadly, held his eyes, and said, "Oops."

Grasping at enough sense for common courtesy, Anders stood. "I… Thank you, Messere Amell. Thank you. E-Excuse me." And he fled, up the stairs toward his private room.

"You're welcome, Cousin!" Danica called at his back as Hawke stood to follow the man. "And I told you, my name is Danica!"