9:31 Dragon, 11 Guardian: a mountain pass somewhere outside Kirkwall
Anders was gentle, but it still hurt, at first. I tried to relax, but between the novelty of the sensation and my desire for the event, that was harder than it sounded. I had never been touched by another. Not like this. Of course, I was tense.
"Unclench your muscles," he suggested, "and breathe through your mouth. Deep breaths. Let's go a little shallower for a while. That might help."
True to his word, he did lean into me less, and though his strokes were as slow and steady as before, the pain diminished.
"Your muscle tone is excellent," he remarked. I could not see his face, of course, but the appreciation in his voice made my chest swell with pride. "There, is that any better? You feel a bit less like you're made of iron bands."
"Yes," I replied, and found that I meant it. The discomfort I had experienced at first was now little more than a memory, and the pleasure that replaced it was... indescribable. In the course of my life, there will probably be some things that will surpass my experience at Anders's hands in terms of pure physical enjoyment, but nothing in my past came close. At least nothing I had shared with another person. I was more than a little selfconscious doing something so intensely personal with the others so close, but Anders assured me that they would leave us alone, and indeed, once we got started, I could almost forget they were nearby. Except Fenris. How he stared after us as we left Varric's card game, his enormous eyes full of an emotion I could not quite identify. It might have been envy. I wondered how Anders could be so calm, after seeing that expression on the face of another.
"Alright, I'll go deeper, then," he warned me. I braced my elbows against the table and Anders put words into action. For a moment, the pain threatened to return, but it did not. I heaved a sigh that made me relax still more and shivered at the pleasure-like-pain that coursed through me.
"It's a pity Varric won't let us use the bed," Anders lamented.
"It's understandable," I explained. "I don't imagine that he'd be too comfortable sleeping there knowing what had been done on it."
"I could offer to do him next," Anders proposed teasingly. I knew he spoke in jest, but it did trigger a small wave of jealousy. It was incredibly selfish to desire Anders's attention for myself alone, but no one can be magnanimous all the time. And Anders was very, very good at what he was doing to me.
"I wouldn't dream of accepting, Blondie," Varric interrupted. "Bianca gets jealous about that kind of thing."
"Your loss!" I could almost hear Anders's grin.
"You could do me," Carver volunteered.
"I thought Teela takes care of this for you," I joked.
"From the sounds coming out of you, brother, I'm not getting the half of it."
We were interrupted by Aveline's arrival.
"If you're done getting your back rubbed, I could use your attention," she said without preamble.
I sighed and sat up straight. Trust Aveline to ruin the most intimate moment of my life to date. Anders stopped stroking my back, but he rested his hands on my shoulders, touching the bare skin of my neck. It was almost an embrace. Almost. Fenris scowled at Anders's caress but said nothing. In view of Fenris's evident displeasure, I wondered whether that had been the point of Anders's offer to ease my stiff back. He had been stinting with visible affection of any kind before we met Fenris. How perverse would it be for Anders to do this for Fenris's benefit and not mine?
"What is it Aveline?" I asked, sighing once more as Anders broke physical contact with my body and took his hands away.
"It's more for Carver," she said. "Your lady friend has a very large mouth."
"She needs it," Carver said smugly, "if she's going to wrap it around -"
"Carver?" Aveline interrupted. "Not now. Do you know what I returned to, coming back to the barracks?"
She barely paused.
"A report, filed by one Teela of Beaker Street, identifying an observed apostate and claiming the associated bounty. She sold out your brother, Carver."
"What?" Carver bellowed. "You're joking. She'd never -"
"She has," Aveline responded soberly. "And what's more, there's nothing I can do to prevent an inquiry. I wrote my assessment on the form: 'Unreliable bystander report; uncorroborated by other witnesses; plaintiff motivated by personal greed,' but I could not block it entirely. Captain Jevan will send someone to check it out. You would do well to convince her that she did not see what she thought she saw."
"Right..." said Carver, still obviously overwhelmed. "Listen, Iain, I was going to help you today, but I need to... I need to go."
"Of course," I replied gratefully. "I'm sorry to have put you in this position."
"It isn't your problem," Carver snapped angrily. I hung my head. Poor Carver. Always having to make excuses for me. I was not too worried about Teela's report. It was her word against Carver's, Anders's, Varric's, and Isabela's. Unless someone more reliable than Teela saw me using magic, they could hardly arrest me as an apostate on such flimsy proof. I hoped.
"Thank you, brother," I said, though his only response was a grunt.
"I'd say to wait on the Sundermount investigation," Aveline said, "but we've already waited too long. If we delay much longer, we'll find nothing but ruined caravans and the corpses of honest merchants."
"I know," I sighed. "How much resistance do you expect."
"Practically none," replied Aveline. "My information is good, but discete. They'll never know what hit them."
"Then there's no need to bring a large group," I agreed.
"I'll go," said Anders.
"And what will you come back to tomorrow?" I replied. I had enjoyed the backrub he gave me, and far more than was good for me, but I was doing this because I needed to clear my head. Anders's presence would not help me do that.
"You have a point," he said, his shoulders slumping. "I've got more patients than ever."
"And I'm sure you could use some time to yourself," I added, trying to make it sound enticing. "I know it will do me good to get away for a while. From Kirkwall, I mean."
Anders looked disappointed, but he let the matter drop. In the end, we decided that Varric and Isabela would accompany Aveline and I. Carver would stay home and attempt to prevent the inquiry from involving the templars, Anders would tend his patients, and Fenris would spend the day settling in. I tried to give him a few sovereigns to put toward provisions and fuel, but he would not accept the coin as a gift nor would he take it as an advance against future aid. He would receive it only as winnings from a couple of hands of Diamondback. It broke my heart to throw away the two best hands I have ever been dealt, but I could not leave Kirkwall knowing that Fenris would go hungry until my return. Well, Anders might, too, but Lirene looked out for him. She sent something down every day, even if it was only a loaf of bread and an apple. Neither would perish before my return.
It is true what they say. You never realize how miserable a place is until you leave it. We were only a few miles from the city, but out here, it was a different world. It was cooler, for one thing. Kirkwall is carved from solid rock, with almost no foliage to cool things down. Out here, there were trees, streams, and scenery, as far as the eye could see. And somehow, it was quieter and noisier at the same time. There were no hawkers crying their wares, no couples screaming at each other from either side of the door to their house, no harlots tempting passers-by, no dockworkers making sounds I should not commit to my journal. There was the sound of birds, however, and insects chewing leaves, which is louder than one might think, and the sounds of a world little-touched by people. And out here, there was color. Not the contrived swaths of hanging banners and bright-painted market stalls, or the garish dresses of nobles out shopping, but fields of flowers in every hue, and cool mossy stream banks glistening in the dappled shade. I found myself wishing Anders was here to share it with me. I chased the thought away by talking to Aveline, flirting harmlessly with Isabela, or joking with Varric, but it kept returning, with ever increasing force.
"We're getting close, Hawke," Aveline announced. "We'll probably run into some scouts, so be alert."
As it turned out, she was right. We managed to surprise the first group in the midst of a card game, and eliminated them before they even had the chance to draw steel. The second group had the jump on us, however. They got both behind and a head of us, and ground us between them as if we were grain. I took a wicked cut across my forehead and was temporarily blinded by the blood flowing into my eyes. By the time I got it wiped away enough to see, I was surrounded. This would have been a good time for Anders's ice barrier spell, but I did not know it. I sent a surge of energy outward that knocked some of my attackers off their feet. I hoped they would go bother Aveline for a while, but no, most came right back and attacked me again. I was able to fight my way free eventually, but I got pretty battered in the process. At least Isabela was faring better today. She fought as if she had never been injured at all. We did win, in the end, but it went on a lot longer than I thought it would. I just hoped all the noise we made would not give away our location. From what Aveline had said, the main group of bandits still lay ahead of us. Considering the pounding we... or I, I should say... took in the last battle, our chances of defeating them were not good.
Aveline, it turned out, had a flair for breaking up ambushes. She led us up over a ridge so we could attack the bandits from above. We had the element of surprise, and by this time of day, the bandits were up against glare from the westering sun as much as against us. We faced more opponents than we had in the second round against scouts, but it went much, much better. I was able to summon a storm to take out some of them with lightning, and a few well-placed fireballs sent the rest scattering for cover. The wounds I had sustained earlier still smarted, but I took no fresh ones, for which I was thankful. Varric had a hard time of it there. He was the one to get cornered, this time, and Bianca is not made for close-quarters combat. Since Aveline and Isabela were doing such a good job on the melee end, however, I was at leisure to help him out of his bind. An ice spell, a crushing spell, and a blast of raw force was enough to regain control of that part of the battlefield. I sent a healing spell his way and turned my attention back to Aveline and Isabela.
Neither one of them would have wanted to hear this, but they worked well together. Aveline drew enemies as if her armor were magnetized and Isabela picked them off one by one. It was only a shame they did not get along better. Isabela's casual attitude about propriety and the ownership of personal property meant that she and Aveline spent most of their time together arguing. Or at least name-calling. Isabela called Aveline a mannish killjoy and Aveline called her a whore. Neither one of them seemed overly offended by the epithets the other used, however, a fact I found peculiar. I am certain that if I had tried it with either of them, I would get my balls handed to me. With the other's help, no doubt.
When it was over, we congratulated ourselves on a job well done and prepared to make camp. I longed to go back and find Anders, but none of us knew the route well, and none of us wanted to grope for our way in the dark. We helped ourselves to the bandits' provisions. What they had was good, but there was surprisingly little of it. A search of their camp turned up nothing worth dragging back with us, either. I was disappointed, but Aveline was pleased. She said it meant that we had come in time to prevent the raiders from attacking innocent caravans. It was easy for her to say. She did not need to come up with fifty sovereigns to pay for the privilege of keeping her family in Kirkwall. And besides, if we had arrived in time to prevent these bandits from striking, why were they so sparsely provisioned? They barely had enough to get a group that size through one more evening, let alone several days. Something was not as it should be.
So, here we were, holed up in the bandits' camp, burning the wood they had gathered for their fires and drinking the ale they had brought for their refreshment. Varric was telling a story about the Hero of Ferelden. I counted two instances of "No shit, there I was," but I was almost positive that he was lying. He's never even been to Ferelden.
"She's my cousin, you know," I interrupted. "I've never met her, but I'm told there's a resemblance."
"You look nothing like her," Isabela laughed.
"And you'd know?" I countered.
"Of course, I'd know," she replied with that smirk she used when she was about to say something scandalous. "She's a natural blonde, if you know what I mean."
"You didn't!" Varric chortled.
"But I did!" Isabela laughed. "And it was magnificent. She and King Alistair stopped in at the Pearl on their way through Denerim. He wasn't king then, of course, but even back then, he knew what to do with his mouth."
"Wait," I protested. "You, my cousin, and King Alistair? And was this when you met Anders?"
"No, that was months later," she grinned, taking another pull from the flask Varric passed her. "It was just Lenira, Alistair, and I, enjoying one night of bliss before they went off to stop the Blight. Though I understand that Anders did meet her later. They served at Warden's Keep together, after the Blight ended."
"Anders, too?" I groaned. "I'm really starting to envy Lenira."
"No, silly," Isabela giggled, "he didn't know her like that. From what Anders said, she and the king were still close, in a very special way. Alistair couldn't marry her because she's a mage, but they're still lovers. I guess Anders was afraid of what the king would do to him if he found Anders putting the moves on his mistress."
"He didn't complain when you 'put the moves on his mistress,'" I pointed out.
"That was different," Isabela replied. She was beginning to slur her words. It was probably just as well we were camping here. "He was right there, at the time. It wasn't as if I was seducing her behind his back."
Snores were coming from the other side of the fire. Aveline had fallen asleep, and no wonder. She was just coming off duty when she came to meet us at the Hanged Man, and she had worked back-to-back shifts the day before that. I was feeling fatigued myself, come to that. Isabela might have slept a bit, but Varric and I had missed a night's sleep while dealing with Fenris's quest.
I wondered how Fenris was faring. Did he feel lonely in that big, empty mansion? Or had he drowned himself in Danarius's wine? The latter was more likely. Or maybe he and Anders were writing sonnets to each other. That, I would have to see! Fenris's hatred of mages and magic seemed genuine and deeply rooted. I might have to take precautions to keep the two of them separated.
And Carver... was it even safe to return to Kirkwall? Aveline did not appear worried. She said that there would be an inquiry, but she believed that nothing would come of it. I hoped she was right. And I regretted putting Carver in that situation. Perhaps it had been a mistake, carrying Isabela to Teela's door. The Hanged Man was not all that much further away... but that would have meant carrying her across a long stretch of road and up two flights of steps. I would never have made it. Still, Carver had missed out on so much by being my brother. True, he had made friends and had lovers in Lothering, but how many villages had we lived in before that? How many times had he been torn from his playmates because templars had been seen on the road outside town? No wonder Carver resented me. He would have had a normal life, but for me. Then again, he would have had a normal life. As a farmer or a wheelwright or something. He would never have become the skilled warrior that he is today. Small consolation for a life on the run, but it was better than nothing.
Finally, my thoughts turned to Anders. Where was he now? Was he up late, scratching away at that manuscript he was always writing? Or was he lying alone on that narrow cot of his, watching the spiders weave tapestries across his ceiling? Had he thought of me at all? As I had never stopped thinking of him, our separation today was probably a failure. Or maybe he needed the space, rather than me. He was the one who resisted when I tried to get closer to him, so maybe I proposed it for his sake as much as for my own. No, that is too big of a lie, even for me. But that massage this morning... that had to mean something, did it not? No, he might have done that for me, anyway. He is a healer. He alleviates suffering wherever he finds it, even if it is only a cramped muscle. My ecstatic reaction to it was the result of my own inexperience, not the result of any erotic techniques he applied.
"Hawke?" Varric said from across the fire.
"Mmm?" I responded.
"You've blotted that same page four times," he said. "Put the journal down and get some sleep."
"Let me just finish the page," I mumbled, but I feel my eyelids getting heavy. Perhaps I'll lie back and look up at the stars for a while. This is the first time I have seen them since the Blight. Kirkwall is too smokey for starlight. I wish Anders was here to look at them with me.
AN: This fanfic makes no claims of accurate characterization of game personae or portrayal of game events. Dragon Age II and all characters except Iain are owned by BioWare. Iain is mine... kind of. Reviews or critiques of any kind, signed or anonymous, are most welcome. So, if you haven't got anything nice to say... don't let that stop you. Of course, if you do have something nice to say, I won't complain!