A/N: This chapter is a sort of AU expanded version of Nathaniel's cameo quest in DA II. While the dialogue is not taken word-for-word, a few of the lines are similar to their in-game counterparts, so beware of spoilers. It's actually a little short on Nathaniel and Velanna, but it's partly setup for the next chapter, which will go back to focusing more on the two of them.
This, Anders thought with a sigh as he dodged a whistling hurlock arrow, was exactly the sort of thing that had inspired him to leave the Grey Wardens in the first place. This sort of thing, and more specifically, this sort of place.
Anders hated the Deep Roads.
To be fair, it was a good bet there wasn't anyone in existence who actually liked the Deep Roads. But during his time as a Warden, Anders had always had the sneaking suspicion that he hated them more than anyone else. All his fellow Wardens had simply set their jaws and plowed ahead in the name of duty, leaving Anders to contemplate the complete absence of anything good about this Maker-forsaken place.
Yet here he found himself again, on a mission to rescue Nathaniel Howe, of all people.
He heaved another sigh, casting an icy bolt in the direction of a charging darkspawn.
It wasn't as though he didn't feel sympathy for Delilah, Maker bless her. He supposed it must be difficult, being a Warden's relative left to wring hands and bite nails and wonder if your loved one might never return. But running off to the Deep Roads to battle darkspawn for weeks or months on end was what Wardens did. And even those who were skilled or lucky enough to survive missions into the Deep Roads would eventually find themselves back there again, this time for the last time.
The grim implications of that fact had not escaped Anders' thoughts over the past several years.
Naturally, telling that—or some version of it—to Hawke had had absolutely no effect. One she got it into her head that she was going to help some poor soul in need, Andraste help anyone who tried to persuade her otherwise.
He sighed for a third time.
The woman fighting alongside him sent a glance in his direction as she drew another arrow from her quiver. "Hoping to knock the darkspawn down with the gale force of your sighing?" Hawke asked, her eyes glittering with amusement.
"It couldn't hurt," he shot back, but he couldn't help but return her smile. She often seemed to have that effect on him. Truth be told, she was about the only thing that could coax a smile out of him, of late.
The last genlock fell with a squawk as Hawke's arrow embedded in its gullet, but Anders could tell the respite would be a brief one.
"More up ahead," he warned, drawing his sleeve across his sweat-beaded forehead. He could feel the grit scratch at his skin as the pervasive dirt smeared, and he grimaced.
Hawke tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together. "Listen."
Anders stilled. The oppressive quiet—no whistling wind, no rustling grass or tree branches, no chirping animals—was just another entry on the list of things he hated about the Deep Roads, but as he strained his ears, he could make out the sounds of a nearby skirmish: metal clanging on metal and the brutish snarls of the darkspawn.
Hawke arched an eyebrow at him. "Suppose that's our missing Warden? The darkspawn aren't likely to be fighting themselves, after all."
Anders opened his mouth to tell her actually, there was this one time…but let it snap shut as he thought better of it. To explain the entire Architect situation would only waste valuable time. Not to mention that if he shared the tale, the Wardens would probably hunt him down and murder him in his sleep for spilling their secrets.
"After you," he gestured, shifting his grip on his staff.
The sounds grew louder and the taint within his blood quickened as they drew closer to the battle. Amidst the clashing of armor and weapons, he could just make out the constant, steady twanging of a bowstring.
At a cry from Hawke, their small party sprang through the narrow opening into the rust-colored expanse that lay beyond, eyes sharp and weapons drawn. A lone man, tall and dark-haired, stood wielding his bow against a small but not insignificant band of darkspawn. Hawke threw Anders a quick, questioning glance, and he nodded.
With their weapons added to the fray, the battle ended within seconds, and Nathaniel turned to face them at the sound of Hawke's call. His eyes lingered briefly on each of them in turn before settling back on Hawke.
"You're the Champion of Kirkwall, aren't you?" he asked. At her nod, he executed a small bow. "My thanks for the assistance."
"No problem at all," Hawke said in the cheery voice she often used after successful battles. Anders had long ago observed that killing things put her in an unusually good mood. "Your sister informed us that you might be needing a hand."
"Delilah sent the Champion of Kirkwall after me?" Nathaniel's eyebrows climbed his forehead, then he shook his head with a small chuckle. "She always did have a way of accomplishing things."
His gaze drifted back to Anders, and the look in his eyes was decidedly frostier than the one he had given Hawke.
"Anders," he said, his tone clipped.
Ah, here it comes. Anders held back yet another sigh, assuming his most unaffected expression. "Nathaniel."
"I can't say I expected to ever see you again," Nathaniel continued in the same flat tone. The unspoken end to the sentence—after you became host to a spirit and abandoned your duty to the Wardens—hung in the air like stale smoke.
Anders shrugged, keeping his face nonchalant. "Life is full of surprises."
"Indeed." The word was almost a growl, and then Nathaniel sighed, making an obvious effort to smooth his expression. "I…don't suppose I could speak to Justice?"
Even out of the corner of his eye, Anders could see Hawke's eyebrows shoot up. He suppressed a wince. "Doesn't work like that, I'm afraid," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. "I can't just…call him up on command."
Nathaniel's expression had regressed from a cold look to an outright glare. "Really."
"Really." Anders sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Why would I lie to you? Do you think I'm particularly enjoying this conversation?"
"I wouldn't know," Nathaniel said pointedly. "I don't make a habit of speaking to abominations."
"Now wait just a minute," Anders shot back, bristling. "As I recall, it was you who told Justice you would consider him no demon if he took a willing host."
To his surprise, Nathaniel's eyes clouded over, a flash of something like pain—or guilt?—crossing his face before his expression closed off entirely. Off to the side, Hawke shifted in place and cleared her throat delicately.
"I do hate to interrupt this fascinating conversation," she said, "but perhaps we should head back toward the surface before another band of darkspawn decides to make us into target practice?"
"I cannot leave now," Nathaniel said instantly, cutting off Anders' hearty agreement before he could voice it. "I was separated from the rest of my party when the darkspawn attacked. The others may still live. I must find them, regardless."
"Of course," Hawke replied, shooting Anders a quick warning look. "We'd be happy to help you search for them. How many were in your party?"
"It was a fairly small band," Nathaniel said. All the anger was gone from his voice, and he appeared oddly distracted. "Several other humans, and a dwarf we brought from Vigil's Keep. And my wife, Velanna."
Anders was suddenly aware of every eye in the room training on him as he made a choking sound that, even to his own ears, sounded rather like he was swallowing his own tongue.
"Velanna?" he gasped when he had regained the power of speech. "You married Velanna? Andraste's sword, I don't know whether to offer congratulations or condolences."
The look Nathaniel shot him hovered somewhere between "unimpressed" and "withering," while Hawke's raised eyebrows spoke clear as day: You're going to be telling me stories later.
The journey further into the Deep Roads was interrupted by darkspawn seemingly every few moments, leaving little opportunity for conversation. Time seemed to lose its relevance, and Anders could almost swear the tunnels were growing darker, narrower, and more choked with darkspawn at every turn. His head began to throb at the taint's constant pull in his blood.
It almost came as a surprise when they rounded a corner to find two mages, one blond and one dark-haired, finishing off a band of darkspawn.
He heard Nathaniel draw a deep, ragged breath. "Velanna!"
Both mages swung around at the sound of his voice, and Anders watched naked relief cross the blond's familiar face. Nathaniel crossed the distance with quick strides to pull his wife into a brief but tight embrace.
Hawke, however, was not watching the reunion.
"Bethany?" she said, her tone surprised, hopeful, and hesitant all at once.
The other mage gave a wan smile. "Hello, sister," she said quietly.
For an instant, Hawke appeared to be struggling to find words. It occurred to Anders that it might be the first time he had ever witnessed such a thing.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she finally said, breaking eye contact and reaching up to rub the back of her neck.
Bethany gave a short, bitter laugh. "I should be the one saying that to you," she replied. "Sometimes it seems as though Wardens live in the Deep Roads. You're no Warden—what are you doing here?"
"We, ah, came to find him, actually." Hawke gestured to where Nathaniel and Velanna stood, talking quietly. "His sister was worried, wanted to make sure he was all right."
"Mm." Bethany looked at Nathaniel, her gaze soft and sad. "It's good to know at least one of us has a concerned sister."
Hawke drew a sharp breath. "That—"
"—Wasn't fair," Bethany finished, a wince of regret flashing across her face. "I'm sorry. It's been…difficult. But I shouldn't take it out on you." She straightened, her face and body language growing lighter, though whether the change was genuine or forced, Anders couldn't tell.
"Thank you for helping him," Bethany continued, gesturing at Nathaniel. "And thank the Maker you found him alive. I—we were getting worried. And I didn't want to be alone with Velanna if we found his—if we didn't find him alive."
Hawke still appeared somewhat shaken, but she gave a quick nod, composing her features. "I'm glad to have helped," she said, and then the tiniest teasing smile entered her eyes. "It sounds like someone has a bit of a crush."
That forced a little color into Bethany's pale cheeks. "Sister! He's more than a decade older than me, not to mention married."
Hawke gave an exaggerated shrug, her tone a little too light. "Just making an observation."
Bethany cleared her throat, digging her toe into the dirt. "Even if I had any desire to be a homewrecker, it wouldn't matter anyway. He has eyes only for her."
"I still find that rather bizarre," Anders mumbled, watching Nathaniel and Velanna's continued conversation with a bemused gaze. At both Bethany and Hawke's raised eyebrows, he spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, they used to flirt with each other all the time—or at least, Nathaniel would flirt and Velanna would get snappish and flustered—but I never thought anything would actually come of it. I thought he just enjoyed getting a reaction out of her. And I certainly never would have imagined her actually consenting to a relationship with a human." He shrugged again. "It looks like I was wrong on both counts."
"So…" Hawke's eyes narrowed in a thoughtful frown. "You obviously have some familiarity with these Wardens. What can you tell me about them? I'd like to know what sort of people I'm entrusting with my little sister's life."
Bethany gave a sigh that turned into a groan. "I'm not a child anymore, honestly."
"You just said things have been difficult for you," Hawke reminded her gently. "Anders?"
"Nathaniel and Velanna?" Anders folded his arms over his chest. "Well, as you saw earlier, Nathaniel and I don't have the friendliest relationship, but he's a decent enough sort to have at your back in a fight. Even if he is a complete grouch who broods all the time. He and Fenris would get along swimmingly, I suppose."
Bethany snorted. "No, they wouldn't. Nathaniel doesn't hate mages. And he doesn't brood that much, either! He—he's just thoughtful and stoic. There's a difference."
Hawke covered her smile with one hand. "And Velanna?"
"Also capable in a fight," Anders said. "Frighteningly capable, actually. She has this thing she does with tree roots that I couldn't even describe to you. She's a bit of a lunatic, though. Remember what I said about all the Dalish women I know being crazy? I was talking about her."
"She actually isn't that bad," Bethany said with a half-smile. "I think she's changed since you knew her. At least somewhat. She's more tolerant of humans, now."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Anders said, his tone dry. "But in all honestly, they're trustworthy. At least as much as some of the people we run around with."
Hawke nodded, filing the information away, and turned to her sister. "Bethany, listen, I…"
"You don't have to apologize, really," Bethany said, her eyes softening. "This isn't the life I would have chosen, but I know you were trying to help me. And I suppose there is at least one bright side—Warden mages don't have to worry about being hunted down by templars."
Anders felt his eyebrows rise at the statement, but he held his tongue, clamping down on the automatic surge of memories and the stirrings of anger that always accompanied them.
Hawke pursed her lips, worry lines deepening on her face. "I just wish I had more reassurance that that's a good trade—safety from the templars in exchange for being a Warden for the rest of your life."
"It is nice, having that weight off my mind," Bethany said. "I've spent my whole life on the run from templars, worrying about being hunted down and dragged off like an animal, and now…suddenly it's no longer a concern anymore. I think that's taken as much time to get used to as anything else."
Anders heard a grinding sound in his ear as he listened to them talk, and realized with an odd sort of detachment that it was his teeth gritting together.
"It isn't right," he ground out.
Hawke frowned at him. "What did you say, Anders?"
His head throbbed, and he felt anger beginning to constrict his chest like a fist. "It isn't right," he repeated. "That mages face so much oppression from the templars that even signing your life away to the Wardens feels like a better option." His fists clenched, the simmering anger building up like a qunari explosive. "Do you know that if I hadn't been conscripted into the Wardens, I would have been hauled back to the Circle for the eighth time? Because by the very fact that I possessed magic I was deemed too dangerous to be allowed basic rights and freedoms?"
His fists clenched, his voice rising as flashes of blue-white light began to curl at the edges of his vision. "And you know, even being in the Wardens isn't necessarily a guarantee of freedom. When I was still with them, they sent a Warden who was an ex-templar to watch my every move. As though in spite of the fact that the Warden-Commander herself vouched for my loyalty, they still felt I had to be controlled like some kind of mongrel."
"Was that really so unreasonable?" Nathaniel's cold voice cut in, and Anders' head jerked as he looked over at the other man. "Considering that you allowed yourself to be possessed, the Wardens' concern doesn't seem so far-fetched, does it?"
"As oppression grows more and more intolerable, its victims will only chafe against their restraints with all the more fervor," Anders shot back hotly.
"Is that why you killed him, the former templar?" Nathaniel took a step forward, his face drawn tight with anger. "And all the other Wardens who were with him?"
As he had every time before, Anders felt the strained threads of his control snap like a frayed rope.
"I killed them because they deserved it!" Vengeance roared.
The outburst lasted only a moment, the white-hot haze disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. Anders blinked, staggering backward a step, and raised a hand to his head. If his temples had throbbed before, now they were pounding.
The room was deathly quiet as everyone stared at him. Nathaniel and Velanna had dropped into defensive stances, weapons drawn. Nathaniel's free arm was extended in front of Velanna, though whether to protect her or to restrain her from rushing forward to kill him, Anders wasn't sure.
"Creators," the elf breathed, and though her voice was shaken, fury burned bright in her eyes. Nathaniel's face was ashen, while Hawke merely looked resigned.
"I knew something had gone terribly wrong," Nathaniel said, his throat constricting visibly as he swallowed hard. "I saw the bodies of the Wardens you killed. But still, to witness it firsthand…" He shook his head. "To say that wasn't the Justice I remember would be an understatement. What did you do to him?"
Anders sighed. "It's a long story, but suffice to say my anger over the mages' plight somehow turned Justice into a spirit of Vengeance."
"You mean a demon." Nathaniel's voice was as harsh as the Anderfels.
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel." Anders kept his tone as even as possible. "I know you were probably the closest thing he had to a friend...before."
Nathaniel stared at him for a long moment before he gave a heavy sigh and turned away, replacing his bow across his back. "I think we're done here. Champion, I thank you again for your aid."
Hawke drew herself up from where she had been standing, observing the exchange with her typical sharp eye. "I should be the one thanking you," she replied, inclining her head. "I had wondered if I would ever see my sister again."
Anders stepped away, lingering by the room's narrow entrance to allow Hawke and Bethany privacy as they said their goodbyes. Across the way, Nathaniel refused to even glance in his direction, looking for all the world as though a thundercloud had descended over him. Velanna reached out to rest her fingers on his arm, and he covered her hand briefly with his own before turning away, his shoulders stiff with tension.
Deep in the corners of Anders' mind, he felt a stirring of something like regret rise from the spirit that had once been Justice, and then it faded away like the remnants of a half-forgotten dream.
