My hands ache when I finally put the pen down, fingers cramped and stained with ink. My head throbs when I stand and make my way to sit on my bed, the darkness of the room doing nothing to quell the pain in my temples.
I hear a soft knock at my door and it swings open before I have the opportunity to respond.
My eyes light up when I see it's her, but I know how it must contrast with the dark bags under my eyes and the weary line of my mouth.
"I've been thinking of you," I inform her, my mouth daring to twitch with a shadow of an uncertain smile.
In fact, I've been able to think of little else but her.
The only light in my life, my one source of stability, and my beacon of hope. One constantly threatened to be overshadowed by Justice in the back of my mind.
In the doorway, with her arms crossed and chin slightly tilted upwards, I can almost pretend we're back at the estate in Kirkwall, with her about to scold me for reading too late or working too hard on my blighted manifesto.
"Have you written me a song? Oh, how I do hope it rhymes," Taea replies, in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere of my darked cabin. She walks over to the small window as she says this, throwing open the drapes to let the sunlight in. She glances over at me, taking note of the wry smile I can't help but give her. She rests a hand on the papers on the desk, eyes scanning the not-quite-dry words.
Truth be told, I'm surprised she's here at all, that she didn't kill me back in Kirkwall for what I did. It's what I deserve.
She meets my eyes again with her bluish-green irises from her spot at the window, a pensive expression on her tanned face as she studies me.
"I wanted to congratulate you. You're doing an absolutely fantastic job of avoiding me," she adds conversationally, when I don't answer. She sits on the bed, leaning against me. I instinctively reach over to take her hand, then stop myself. She should be furious with me, and rightly so.
"Don't give me all the credit; it's pretty easy with everyone else there to distract you." My smile fades and I shake my head. "Taea," I begin. Without even looking at her, I already know the way her lips twitch in silent protest at the use of her first name, that tiny downward spasm at the left corner of her mouth paired with the slight wrinkle of her nose.
"Tell me what's wrong, Anders," she softens her tone. She rests a hand at the nape of my neck, gently running her fingers through my hair. I want to laugh.
"You mean the fact that I blew up a blighted Chantry?" I demand, cringing at the memory of fire and rubble and blood. Maker, all those people... "Or that I was foolish enough to hope that Justice... that part of me would disappear after I did so?" I sigh again, looking away. "I've been meaning to tell you... I will leave as soon as we stop at the next port," I inform her gloomily. "It will be for the best." I look up in time to see a frown take over her pretty face.
"But you don't even know where we're going," she protests, voice rising in that stubborn way she has. "I don't even know where we're going."
"It doesn't matter. They'll be after me. And if you stay with me... I don't want to think of what they'd do to you, love. I won't endanger you any further."
Her lips purse distastefully at my words.
"You're being unreasonable," she declares, her free hand clenching into a fist.
"You're angry with me."
"Of course I'm angry with you! You've been avoiding me for weeks and have just told me you plan on deserting!" Her hand leaves my skin so she can express her irritation with the added emphasis of gestures.
That particular comment hits closer than I am comfortable with.
It's the only thing I can do right, isn't it? Escaping the Circle, running from the Wardens... and now, what am I trying to run from? Is it second nature by now?
"And don't you dare make this about Justice. We're in this mess together. Your cause is mine, and if you leave, I go with you," she informs me crossly.
When I look up, I see an unexpected hunger in her eyes, all but hidden behind the weary stubbornness.
"I never wanted that- to pull you so deep into this. This is why I tried to warn you-"
"And I didn't listen," she shrugs, as if it's no more consequential than a scrape or spilt ale.
"You're still not listening," I retort, clenching my teeth in frustration. "What I've done cannot be forgiven." All those lives I've taken..." Maker help me. "I had to do something to make them see."
"And I... understand that."
"You really don't."
"Maker, Anders," she rubs a hand over her face.
"I can see myself for what I truly am now." Abomination. "All these years I've tried denying what I've always known-" Fenris was right. "How can you stand to look at me?"
"Because I can still see the person you used to be," she states, with a hint of stubborn determination in her tone, daring me to challenge her words. "You won't be rid of me so easily," she promises, leaning forward to brush her lips against mine. "I love you." Against all reason.
She should have killed me after what I did in Kirkwall.
She should have listened to my warnings from the very beginning.
"I wish I knew how to fix this."
"You can't fix it," she shakes her head. "But you can atone for it. Or can't you see that?" she points out, a demanding fire in her gaze. I can't help myself; my eyes linger on her lips. She notices, catching me off guard when she buries her face in my neck, her lips resting against the hollow of my throat. I pull her closer, wondering how in the Void I ever thought I could leave the one person able to keep me grounded. She lifts her head, grabs my chin, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"Just wondering about the day you'll come to your senses." She laughs.
"Never."
Her breath tickles my skin and makes me grin, despite whatever we'll have to face in the near future.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
A flash of light blinds me as Justice takes over.
I see only white brightness while my limbs move of their own accord.
I try to stop, to shout, to reclaim my body, but I can't escape the prison I've built for myself.
Justice.
When I can see clearly again, I watch my hands violently swing my bladed staff in Taea's direction, but I can't stop myself and everything is so terribly wrong. My stomach clenches in horror, but I can't control my arms.
"Anders, stop!" she shouts frantically, sounding far away. She ducks away in time, and I feel something heavy hit my head from behind. "Don't hurt him, he can't help it!" she pleads to our companions as I crumble to the ground, unconscious.
I always hated the blighted Deep Roads.
When I come to, my mind is swimming and I feel a welt raised on the back of my head. The first thing I see is Taea's set of blue-green eyes above me, her eyebrows furrowed with worry.
My hands are in hers, though they're warm where mine are clammy with cold sweat.
"Anders!" she exclaims, letting out a breath of relief. "You frightened me." She reaches out to touch my cheek and I see that her eyes are shining with tears she won't let herself shed.
"I... what happened?" I manage to ask, dazedly placing a hand to my head.
"What happened?!" Carver repeats furiously, his eyes dark with anger and hands clenched around his greatsword. "What happened is you attacked us, you stupid bloody mage!"
"Carver," Taea glares dangerously, a note of warning in her tone.
"Oh, just perfect, defend your abomination," he scoffs. "In case you've forgotten, we've got to sort out this... whatever it is Father did." He stalks off in the opposite direction, his heavy steps leaving imprints in the dirt.
She helps me sit carefully. I feel like throwing up but cough instead.
"You're okay, Blondie," Varric thumps me on the back gruffly, urging me to my feet. "Just...let's not do that again. Bianca doesn't like putting down friends."
I suppose Commander Amell was right.
You can never truly leave the Wardens.
-x-x-x-x-x-
I wake in the middle of the night with a start, my heart pounding and a sheen of cold sweat covering my skin. My heart only starts to slow when I look down to see Hawke's head on my chest.
I've jumped so suddenly while waking that she starts to stir.
"Anders?" she mumbles sleepily, stifling a yawn. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, love," I answer, running my hand up and down her bare arm as she falls back to sleep.
I remember most of the dreams that wake me.
The good dreams, they're about Hawke and I living somewhere that looks like Ferelden, with no one but her mabari to keep us company. Sometimes, in this fantasy, there are small, lighthaired, cerulean-eyed children running about, tugging at my hands and heart. All dreams of things I know can never be. The nightmares are more realistic.
Sometimes, I can't decide which I prefer to torture myself with.
Those dreams with Hawke's mangled body surrounded by slavers, thugs, or mercenaries looking down at her with leering grins.
Even worse, Hawke bound and held by templars, a red sunburst freshly emblazoned on her forehead, and me too late to the scene. The fire in her cerulean eyes replaced with cold, lifeless emptiness.
At times, I believe Justice is trying to dissuade me with these visions from the Fade.
I kiss the top of her head and she sighs into my chest.
I study the canopy of the bed above us and get a sudden foreboding apprehension that the fabric will collapse and swallow us whole, smothering us.
I don't dare fall back asleep.
-x-x-x-x-x-
"Hurting you would kill me."
"Hurt me?" she repeats incredulously. "You're welcome to try. I imagine I might even enjoy it." The teasing look on her face is almost enticing enough to undo my control. I clench a hand into a fist as if it will stop me from imagining what her skin would feel like were I to touch her like a lover instead of a healer.
"Hawke..." I groan, rubbing a frustrated hand over my face.
"Anders..." Taea replies with a smirk. I take a step closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and gripping lightly. Her hand reaches up to rest idly against my own, the barest touch. I clench my teeth. She looks up at me, innocently widening her eyes.
"No. Don't, Taea." Her mouth twitches with a grimace at my use of her first name. "Please. There's only so much I can take before..." I take my hand back and turn away. You drive me mad. "Has no one else captured your attentions?" I ask, with strained undertones. For years I've lain awake at night thinking of her, wanting her... torturing myself with the knowledge of whatever she had with Fenris and Maker who knows who else. Wondering if she's writhing with pleasure under him or in the lap of one of Aveline's guardsmen.
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she questions. I turn back to smile wryly in response while she leans against a spare cot in the clinic.
"Perhaps. If only for your own good." I look away again, avoiding her piercing gaze. "Humor me. Are there no Hightown nobles sniffing around the estate and getting on one knee every time you leave the manse?" I can hear my heart hammering in my ears, louder with every second she doesn't respond. I'm not entirely sure what I want her answer to be.
"Mm. Being an apostate isn't exactly an ideal trait in a wife, now is it?" she smirks again, looking at the ceiling. "Despite how hard my mother tries..."
"Anyone who can't see past that is a fool, anyway." My lips purse. I swallow, trying and failing to keep my affections to myself once again. "But I'd be lying if I said I'm not relieved there's no one else."
"If you're referring to Fenris..." she begins. "That was... it ended a while ago. He...we're very different. It meant nothing," she concludes quickly, words spilling from her lips so fast I'm unsure whether to take her at her word.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
"I'm not," she interrupts. "Sorry, that is." She stands up and starts for the door. "I am, however, sorry you can't make up your mind, Anders."
She only leaves me with a cryptic expression before she exits my clinic.
-x-x-x-x-x-
The Commander rents us a room in the Crown and Lion for the night.
Had it not been for my phylactery set-up, we could've been on our way back to the Keep by now.
Meanwhile the Commander questions the inn's staff about the missing Warden and Nathaniel visits his sister, Oghren and I mingle with the locals.
"His name is Ser-Pounce-a-Lot?" one of the barmaids coos, bending over to pet him. "How precious!" I raise my eyebrows suggestively at the dwarf across the table as Pounce meows.
Oghren snorts into his tankard, eavesdropping on the conversation. I kick him under the table.
"He likes summer days and the caress of beautiful women. Much like I do," I quip, and the girl blushes prettily. Oghren rolls his eyes when she scoots closer to me.
"Is it much work, being a Warden? Killing darkspawn and the like?" she asks, all freckles and big blue eyes filled with curiosity.
"We manage," I shrug indifferently. "Of course, it does often get... lonely on nights like these..."
"I think you'll be blessed with fine company tonight, Anders, seeing as we're all sharing a room," Warden-Commander Amell interrupts, arms crossed over her chest. The serving girl quickly excuses herself and Meerah takes the seat next to me. "Sorry," she apologizes. "We've too much to discuss tonight."
"No problem, Commander. I was only showing Oghren here how a cat can do wonders for your social engagements."
"Yes, well, I know a girl or two back at the Keep that can attest to that," she retorts, raising an eyebrow at Pounce and I.
"Yeah, yeah, point taken, Sparkle-fingers," Oghren grudgingly admits, belching loudly. Meerah wrinkles her nose at our dwarven companion.
"Anyway... first order of business is finding Kristoff. We're going to take a little day trip to the Blackmarsh first thing in the morning." She lowers her voice. "After we've sorted that and are back at the Keep... we'll see about how many strings I can pull to locate our phylacteries," she adds, with a glint in her eyes that both surprises and excites me.
-x-x-x-x-x-
"Moving on quickly, are we, Hawke?" Isabela raises an eyebrow, eyeing her friend's form hunched over her tankard. "First Fenris, then Anders, then...pints?"
"Something would have to have happened for me to be moving on from first," she snorts in bitter laughter.
"Speak of the darkspawn himself..." she trails off with a raised eyebrow as I step into the doorway. "I think I hear a round of fresh ale calling for me."
"May I sit?" I ask warily, pretending as if I haven't heard.
"It is Varric's chair. Perhaps you should ask him," she responds. Her eyes are trained on the tankard in front of her. I glance at Varric, who holds up his hands in neutral defense.
"I would speak with you, Hawke," I say, not moving.
"Would you?" Her tone is sarcastic and taut, her lips pursed and sea-green eyes like ice boring into mine. Her eyebrow arches in that way that's so...Hawke. So incredibly infuriating and entirely sexy.
"Alone," I press, wanting not to be here when Isabela returns, or if Merril joins us. Or, Maker forbid, if Fenris slinks over from his estate tonight. Taea's eyes snap up to meet mine, full of fire that slowly burns itself out as I stare back helplessly. She wordlessly stands and walks past me.
"You sure, Blondie? Some witnesses might help in case we don't see you again after tonight," Varric calls after me. I follow her down the lonely corridor, far enough from Varric's suite as to not be heard by our companions.
"Taea, I..." I begin hesitantly.
"Please don't," she sighs. Her eyes are wary, fire gone. "You'll apologize, and I'll feel awful for pressuring you." She shakes her head when my mouth opens. "I just... I can't keep...losing everyone. Father, Bethany to the Circle, Carver to the Wardens...even Fenris didn't stay more than a night," she finishes in one tired breath. "I don't want to lose you, too. Not to Justice or the templars."
"I didn't mean...I thought I'd be taking advantage of you. That's hardly fair, is it?" I laugh harshly at the thought of anything in my life being fair.
"Sometimes, I wish you'd take advantage of me," she quips. "Then maybe you'd be more a man of action than words."
"I'm trying to protect you!" I exclaim, frustrated with it all.
"Protect me?" she scoffs, rolling those pretty eyes. "From what are you protecting me, exactly?"
"From me. From Justice-" Her eyes roll at the mere mention of it- him. Me. I sigh audibly. "I don't know anymore."
"Well, that's one I haven't heard before," she laughs sourly. "Just admit it. It's not Justice, Anders. It's you."
"I almost killed that girl!"
"But you didn't," she challenges. Only because she was there to stop me.
"Hawke-" I groan.
"Anders..." she retorts, mocking my tone.
"You're just so...frustrating! You- "
"Me? I'm frus-" Her face contorts into that stubborn Hawke scowl I can't resist.
I don't even let her finish the sentence before I grab her face and claim her lips. That irritating voice of reason in my head that I sometimes refer to as Justice reminds me how selfish I'm being.
I ignore it.
She gasps lightly as my tongue slides over hers and I pull her against me with an arm clutched around her waist. She eagerly responds, sliding a hand under my coat and knotting the other in the loose hair at the nape of my neck.
It's bliss to stop thinking for the moment, to feel her hands on me, to have her body pressed up against mine.
I hesitantly pull away, my hands skimming over her curves to settle low on her hips. I lean down to plant a few kisses on her smooth neck.
"If your door is open tonight...I will come to you," I breathe against her throat, feeling her shiver. "If not, you'll have listened to my warnings at last." I'm not sure which I fear more. I release her, and turn to go before Justice can make me regret my words.
"The cellar door might be appropriate for a midnight tryst," she calls breathlessly to my back, not seeing my face heat up at the thought.
-x-x-x-x-x-
I write almost by habit, my hand flying across the paper that becomes yet another page of my manifesto, my sense of time disappearing as the candles melt and the room is near engulfed by shadows.
I suddenly feel a hand slide up under my tunic and her lips at the back of my neck. I pause my writing even through my inexplicable need to continue. My hand twitches in protest.
"Come to bed, it's late," she purrs as she brushes her lips against my ear, making me shudder in anticipation.
"Taea..." I close my eyes as my necessity to finish the manifesto is overpowered by the thought of going to bed with her. I have to write everything before I forget, I remind myself, meanwhile her hand traces loving patterns on my chest.
"Let's see what you have so far," she continues, leaning farther over my shoulder to read the paper in front of me. Her soft hair grazes my skin.
"Hawke-"
"The Chantry teaches that magic is meant to serve man, not..." she starts to recite in an exaggerated Orlesian accent. I can't help but smile. Her eyebrows are adorably scrunched with the effort of making her accent as ridiculous as possible.
"I love you," I interrupt, grinning as I watch the light dance in her eyes.
She gives me hope that some day, two people like us can be happy without the fear of being torn apart for simply being what we are.
"Andraste was the-" she continues, but I turn my head to catch her mouth with mine. I feel her lips curve in a playful smirk as I take her face in my hands and she climbs onto my lap.
-x-x-x-x-x-
"You are not bringing that flea-ridden mongrel into the Deep Roads!" our resident Orlesian Warden bellows. Meerah rubs her temples with one hand, her eyes focused on the ceiling for a few seconds.
"Andraste's arse, Stroud! It's just a bloody cat!" she tries to reason with him.
"We're scouting Deep Road entrances in the Free Marches, not going to an Orlesian pony show!" Stroud retorts. "Blighted animal's making him soft. Either he gets rid of the cat, or they both stay here." I scowl at him. There is no way I am missing this opportunity. "I haven't the time for such nonsense. We leave at dawn, Warden. Make your decision, and do it quickly." He storms from the room, leaving Meerah and I alone.
"Don't worry, kitty," I coo, pulling Ser-Pounce-a-Lot from my pack once Stroud's out of earshot. "The nice Warden-Commander won't make me abandon you, will she?" Meerah sighs and closes her eyes, gripping the sides of her desk as if it's the only thing keeping her grounded.
"He's been a Warden ten times as long as the two of us combined," she states, opening her hazel eyes to study me. "And you're not leaving such a grand impression on our Orlesian guests."
"Orlesians aren't cat people?" I ask quizzically. "Who knew?"
"It's not about the blighted cat, Anders! It's about your blatant disregard of authority!" she exclaims, understandably exasperated.
"I thought that's what you liked best about me."
"Anders..." she sighs again, shaking her head. "You're leaving him here."
"Commander!" I protest.
"You will leave Ser-Pounce-a-Lot with me and see him upon your return from the Free Marches," she continues, ignoring me. "You will give Stroud your humblest apologies and will be the very best example of a Ferelden Warden while you travel with him."
"Yes, Commander," I sullenly reply.
"You will be sure to ask Stroud for copies of the maps in case you are...separated... for any reason," she adds, eyeing me knowingly. I don't let the surprise show on my face. "You're dismissed."
I give a nod of my head and get up to leave.
"You know, being a Grey Warden is kind of permanent," she says off-handedly, before I reach the door. "You can't exactly run from it." Andraste's flaming knicker-weasels. "All the same, I'm proud to have known you, Anders, whatever happens."
"I...feel the same. Thank you, Commander." She nods.
"Justice has been looking for you all afternoon, he wishes to have a word, I believe. Be sure to bid farewell to Oghren and Sigrun as well. I'm sure even Nate and Velanna will miss you." I meet her eyes one last time. "Good luck, Anders."
"Goodbye," I reply, shutting the door.
-x-x-x-x-x-
I wake up to the sound of retching. I sit up, startled to see Hawke kneeling over a bucket in the corner of the cabin and not next to me in bed.
"Taea? Are you alright, love?" I ask, quickly crossing the room to kneel at her side and rub her back.
"Maker help me," she moans dramatically, bowing her head and waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. She takes a few deep breaths before standing, using me as a support.
"What is it? Are you seasick?" I push stray waves of brown hair from her face. She shakes her head adamantly.
"I don't get seasick. I'm fine," she tries to brush me off.
"Hawke..."
"Really. Give me a few moments and I'll be ready for breakfast." I shake my head at her. She walks over to the basin, breathing deeply and then splashing water on her face. "I'm fine."
I glance out the window and frown.
"There's a galley out there, do you see that?" I ask her, squinting through the window.
"I can't see the flag they're flying. We should find Isabela," she agrees, forgetting her illness.
We immediately locate Isabela above deck.
"Looks Orlesian!" a crewman shouts down to her from the crow's nest. "Could be a pleasure barge."
"Don't assume they're friendly! We're a pirate ship, remember?" she instructs. "If it's a pleasure barge, might be they're easy prey. Or they might not. Keep your eyes open."
"Yes, Captain!"
"What can we do to help?" Taea asks her.
"You can get down below deck and hide," Isabela scowls impatiently. "Find your brother, sister, and Merrill and tell Fenris to show you the hidden compartment in my cabin. Just in case. Send him up here to me afterwards," she calmly commands, ignoring Taea's attempts to interrupt. "What?" Isabela asks, noting my stare.
"Just wondering when you became so selfless," I admit. She rolls her eyes.
"Apparently when I began hanging around you lot. You're all part of my crew now, and no one threatens my crew on my ship."
I see Hawke open her mouth to argue with Isabela's commands, but I gently push her towards the stairs.
There are some battles that aren't ours.