Note: This was probably the hardest chapter of the entire story to write in addition to being the longest chapter so far. I should not that while I do like Isabela, I don't see her as being the one I would go to if I were to have a sudden emotional breakdown. This is due to her back story in the comics where her mother selling her into an arranged marriage to an abusive husband. She's a tough lady, no doubt, but always came across as a bit emotionally detached. Anyways, here's the next chapter.
Chapter 7 Through the Darkened Glass
WARNING: There is graphic depiction of torture, symptoms of PTSD, and mentioning of rape
For the first few weeks of his stay in Kirkwall, Anders had stayed in the Hanged Man. Varric had helped him get a fairly nice room at a decent price. Though in all fairness, it was hardly necessary as he had spent most of his time either outside the city with Garrett on patrol or in Hightown. After two weeks, Garrett had insisted that he come stay in the old Amell estate. The place had plenty of room and it was nice having more people under his roof. Anders had initially politely refused, he wasn't certain it was a good idea. He cared for Garrett and didn't want to nurture the false hope of something more than a close friendship. He was going to die in about twenty years while Garrett could easily go another sixty. It wouldn't be fair to put him through such pain again.
Despite his hesitations, it was Leandra that that got him to change his mind. The lady had been skeptical about him, wondering what he was up too. But after giving her a letter from her daughter and news on a potential son-in-law, she had taken a liking to the blonde mage. She had made sure to invite him to dinner almost every night he was in Kirkwall, insisting that he take seconds or thirds of everything. Her openness towards mages and magic, even though she had no such talent, won him over. He had been so young when he had been taken to the Circle that he barely remembered his mother. It was quite novel for him to have someone trying to fill that role in his life, but he found himself actually liking it. She had been quite delighted when he had moved in. Leandra had grown up in a big family and had given birth to three lively children. The house had been too empty for too long. She had wanted her children to live there with her and perhaps her grandchildren too, but fate had pushed her family apart. She was more than happy to fill her need to mother by doting on a young man around her sons age. It was quite touching really. Staying at the estate with Garrett and his mother was the closest thing he'd known to a real family.
It was shortly after he settled into the Amell estate that a message arrived for Garrett from one of his mercenary contacts. It was cryptic, hinting at some wrong doing in the Gallows and requesting a face to face meeting in one of the newer homes in Hightown. It had no signature, but Garrett recognized the neat, spidery handwriting. Garrett had tried to keep Anders out of it since Grey Wardens were meant to act as a neutral party and not get involved in the politics of the land. Anders had refused to allow him to go alone. Mercenaries were only as loyal as long as the coin kept flowing, what was to stop them from turning Garrett in for being an apostate? There were already rumors swirling through the market about there being an apostate for hire if the pay was high enough. It was a miracle that he hadn't been discovered yet! Garrett had reluctantly agreed to his demand and the two men had set off that afternoon.
The house the note had sent them to was built in the newer parts of Hightown. Until quite recently, it had belonged to a minor Orlesian nobleman. The man's family had been quite wealthy at one point, but the nobleman's decadent tastes had drained what gold remained in his coffers. To avoid scandal he had sold the mansion and left to live to distant relatives in Montsimmard. The new owner had raised more than a few waxed aristocratic eyebrows.
Garrett had knocked on the front door using a solid silverite knocker, a lingering reminder of it's previous owner. The door was then opened by a tall woman with dark olive skin and a mass of dark hair. She gave them a smile that while friendly, it bordered on sultry.
"My dear Hawke," there was a trace of a Rivanni accent in her voice, "I see you got my lord husband's invitation. Please," she stepped aside, "enter and be welcome at our hearth."
"It is good to see you again, Nomi." She gave them another sultry smile before leading through the entryway to the main hall. It was almost twice the size of the Amell estate's main hall, with a high vaulted ceiling with detailed crown molding and hand crafted wall paper with gold paint. The furniture was dark and made from expensive Antivan leather. The whole room screamed off affluence.
"I had wondered when you would finally visit us," she motioned for them to take a seat at the long table that dominated the center of the room, "it has been far too long since we had the pleasure of your company." Her accent thickened a bit as she teased out that particular word. She winked at Garrett, assuring him of her playful nature.
"Nomi," a man called as he descended from the stairs leading to the second floor, "for Maker's sake, stop teasing the poor boy." Anders recognized the man. It was the mercenary he had seen in Varric's suite months ago. Johann was not wearing the black and silver armor he had previously seen him in, opting for a comfortable crimson tunic and black pants. The lack of armor didn't make him appear any less dangerous, as he still wore a belt with several small knives. "Hawke," he clasped the other man's forearm, "good to see you my friend." His strange green-grey eyes flitted to Anders, "and greetings to you Warden, I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet."
"Johann, this is my friend Anders, the Grey Wardens sent him here to help with the rising darkspawn numbers."
"And help that is much appreciated, I assure you." Johann took a seat as his wife left to fetch refreshments. Anders tried not to stare at the slight sway in her hips that accentuated her fine feminine figure. "Shall we get on to business then? I understand you're a busy man these days with the rising tensions between the Qunari and the Chantry. The Viscount must be thanking the Maker every day that there is at least one person in Kirkwall the Qunari respect enough to listen to." Nomi returned with a tray containing a tea pot and several cups along with a tray of biscuits. "Maker knows that isn't him." Nomi played the part of gracious hostess as she
"It hasn't been easy, yes, but at least the Qunari aren't going to send Templars my way."
"No, but I'd imagine they wouldn't be too pleased to discover your particular talents," the mercenary took a small sip from his cup, "I hear they rip out the tongues of their mages and sew their mouths shut. A rather unpleasant punishment for being born different, isn't it?" His wife shot him a scold, "my apologies, darling." The dark skinned lady snorted in a mixture of amusement and frustration at the lack of tact her husband could display. "But we aren't here to discuss the Qunari. Have you heard of Ser Alrik?" Garret nearly spat out a mouthful of tea at the name. He had heard of Alrik from the letters he had been exchanging with Aeryn. The Templar had a reputation for being unnecessarily vicious to his charges. He had a habit of beating mages for the most minor of infractions and the Knight Commander did nothing to stop him even as other Templars complained to her of the mages mistreatment. There were also rumors of him abusing young girls, forcing them to do horrible, degrading acts for his pleasure. The thought of what Alrik might have done if Bethany had been forced into the Circle was too horrible to contemplate.
"I hear he's a right bastard." His shaking hands did not go unnoticed by his host.
"That's putting it lightly, but yes. I've had my ear to the ground for some time and my sources tell me Alrik might be pushing for a way to deal with the 'mage problem'." The mercenary pulled out a small note from his pocket and handed it to Garrett, "this is a copy of Ser Alrik's Final Solution. His goal is to have every mage, harrowed or not, made Tranquil."
"But that goes against Chantry Law!" Anders said, his heart now racing at the prospect of being forced to undergo the Rite of Tranquility, to be made a hollow shell of himself. "Mages that have gone through their Harrowing can't be made Tranquil. You can't think the Grand Cleric would allow this."
"Has a Harrowing ever stopped the Templars from treating their charges like chattel?" The men all looked at Nomi, her face had gone a little pale, "in recent years the Gallows has attracted the worst kind of people." Garrett remembered when he had talked with Ser Thrask after the incident with the Starkhaven mages. He had said the same thing. Could he be the source of Johann's information? The man didn't seem to mind turning to outside help.
"I'm not certain what to believe Warden, but one doesn't survive long in my world by being skeptical. It may be just a rumor," the mercenary didn't sound convinced, "but even lies have a grain of truth to them."
"What if you're wrong?" Garrett asked, "what if this is just something the Templars made up to scare mages into submission? It wouldn't be the first time they did so."
"If it is just a story, then that will be the end of it. If it is not," Johann gave a vague, all-encompassing gesture, "then we shall deal with it when the time comes. I would like to have you at my side when I confront Ser Alrik. You and your Warden friend would be quite useful in persuading him to talk." Sensing Garrett's uneasiness about the whole matter he added, "I'll owe you a favor after this, anything you like. Within reason of course." Garrett considered the offer. From what he had heard of Ser Alrik, it was possible for him to attempt such an extreme measure of control on the mages. The man was a sadist and took pleasure in tormenting others. However, that did not mean he had persuaded his superiors to his cause. He hated the sadistic bastard, but he wasn't going to kill him if there was no cause.
"Alright." Anders' eyes widened at Garrett's decision, "but I want you to promise that we won't kill the man if there isn't need. He's a bastard, but murder is murder." Anders relaxed, that sounded more like the Garrett he knew.
"It must be nice to see the world in such tones of black and white, Hawke, but some of us have to operate in the gray spaces." Garrett wouldn't budge on the matter, "very well, I agree to your terms, But if he attacks first, I make no promises. I will defend my men and myself. Are we clear?"
"Crystal clear. No killing except in defense." The two men shook hands to seal the deal. Johann left them shortly after finishing the last of the sweet Orlesian tea to make preparations for the excursion into the tunnels beneath Darktown where Ser Alrik was rumored to take mages for the Rite. Anders was still uncomfortable about the idea of wading through the filthy tunnels of Kirkwall with a ruthless mercenary who knew about Garrett's apostate status. What was going to keep him from turning Garrett in for a tidy sum. Mercenaries were only as loyal as the coin that came their way. He kept this to himself until they left the house to go make their own preparations.
"Do you trust him?" They had stopped in the market to pick up some herbs for health poultices, Garrett had just finished haggling with an old woman for a handful of elfroot and two pouches of spindleweed. Garrett had been pocketing his change when Anders asked.
"Johann? Not really, but I know he won't turn me over to the Templars. He hates them almost as much as I do." That was a bit more encouraging, he didn't trust the man, but he didn't expect to end up in the Gallows because of him. "You didn't notice that his wife is mage?" Anders raised an eyebrow. How had he not noticed a fellow mage? Yes, she was a bit …. distracting with that voice like smoke and honey and curves that could make a chantry brother sweat. But still, he should have sensed something. "Don't feel too bad, I had no idea at first either. Not until she tossed me into a wall."
"Pretty and dangerous," Anders laughed, "sounds like a winning combination."
"Just don't let him hear you say that, he'll cut your balls off if you make a pass at Nomi." That killed any desire to flirt with the lady. He was rather fond of certain parts of his anatomy. That didn't dim his excitement of there being another free mage in the city, and hopefully one that didn't dabble in blood magic. He had tried to like Merrill and be more sensitive to her since his return to Kirkwall as she was Garrett's friend, but he just couldn't get past the blood mage thing. It was probably a lingering bit of trauma from what he had seen Uldred do to the tower and it's occupants under the influence of a demon summoned by blood magic.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the two mages brewed health and restorative potions. Back in the tower, before Garrett's escape, the two had often worked together in the infirmary wing. Garrett didn't have Anders' natural abilities when it came to healing, but he wasn't too shabby at brewing. He had even impressed the blonde by making a palatable health position. They didn't say much as they chopped up the herbs and measure out the ingredients, but it was a strangely comfortable silence. When night fell over Hightown, they were ready to descend into the darkness.
The tunnels were filthier than Anders could have imagined. The smell alone was enough to make him gag, the mixture of human waste, rotting organic matter, and Maker knows what else was an almost visible vapor floating over the ground. He couldn't believe that some people actually came down here voluntarily. Garrett was keeping pace with him, looking just a bit green about the gills as they descended further into the bowels of the city. He had managed to convince Isabela and Varric to join him on the little trip down the nug hole. Ahead of them was the small group of mercenaries that Johann had ordered to come along. They were all wearing armor similar to their leader's black Antivan leather and silverite ensemble. Isabela had made more than a few comments about how much she loved men in leather. If not for the helmets, Anders was sure at least one of the men was blushing at all the innuendos.
There had been small pockets of smugglers along the way, some had resisted and forced the group to fight, but most just scattered fled deeper into the sewers. There had been so sign of any Templar activity and Garrett was ready to call it a night when there was the echoing sound of sobs bouncing across stone walls. He couldn't make out any words, but the crying sounded like a person in terror. They had hurried to find the source of the noise.
At the end of a long, probably slave carved tunnel was a small open cavern. There were a number of armor clad men who had their backs to the tunnel, clearly not expecting to be disturbed. Garrett didn't need to see the flaming blade on the front of their armor to know who they were. The long purple skirt was a dead giveaway. He could hear a monotone voice chastising the crying girl, telling her how bad she had been, and that she wouldn't be a problem for much longer. Garrett boldly strode into the cavern, the Templars who had been watching parting and reaching for their blades simultaneously. The tall bald man with a large beard at the center turned to face Garrett.
"What are you doing to that girl! Get away from her!" Garrett unstrapped his staff and dropped into a defensive position. His companions were quick to join him, Varric loading a round of bolts into Biana, Isabela twirling her long daggers in anticipation, and Anders summoning up the arcane energies.
"This mage has broken the rules, she must be punished." Ser Alrik was not deterred by the potential fight, "leave us to complete our holy duty or pay the price."
"I wasn't aware rape was a holy duty," Johann's men had taken their position, bows and daggers ready to take down every Templar in the area. The mercenary had managed to get behind one of the younger Templars and held a razor sharp knife to the boy's throat. "I consider myself a fair man, do as Hawke says, get away from the girl and perhaps we won't paint the walls with the blood of your fellows." The younger man was shaking as he felt the edge of the knife prick open a small patch of skin and blood trail own his neck.
"We do the work of the Divine, you godless heathen. The Maker smiles on us this day and will not allow you to stop us." Alrik unsheathed his sword, "be strong brothers, show these heathens the might of our righteous cause." As Garrett had feared, the situation deteriorated into a blood bath. Johann slit the young man's throat and tossed his lifeless body aside before giving his men the order to attack, kill everyone but Ser Alrik. He wanted him alive for questioning. The Templars, though clad in solid plate, were not fast enough to dodge barrages of arrows and bolts aimed at their heads. Those that did not fall in the first wave were hacked and slashed to bits by overzealous mercenaries. Garrett had faced off with Ser Alrik. The older man was a powerful swordsmen, but it was clear he had never done much fighting out of a sparring ring. He was subdued when Garrett was able to disarm him with a flick of his staff and a blow to the face with the flat of blade. The man surrendered, he was not eager to die.
"I surrender," he growled, kneeling in an act of submission, "what do you want from me?" Before Garrett could question him on the Tranquil solution, Johann had come up behind the Templar and wrenched his arm, dislocating it. The Templar howled in pain and cursed him. "Bastard, what do you want?"
"I'm thinking some compensation for all the misery you've caused," Johann held the dislocated limb back at a sharp angle, forcing the Templar to lean forward, whimpering from the pain. "Henly," the mercenary's large bodyguard came forward, "take the girl to our friends in the underground, tell them I'll cover the expenses." The large red headed man grunted and with more gentleness than can be expected of a man the size of a small mountain, carried her out of the tunnel.
"What are you doing?" Garrett asked, he had agreed to acting in defense, not torture. Varric and Isabela didn't seem at all bothered with the idea of a little torture. The man was a sadist and rapist.
"You should cut of his favorite bits," Isabela suggested, "that seems like fair punishment. I'm certain the Tranquil girls would not disagree if they could."
"Perhaps, but I don't want him bleeding out." The Templar was shaking and whimpering from the pain of his dislocated arm. "What's the matter, Serah? Surely you've done this to mages before, haven't you ever wondered what it feels like? Here," he took ahold of a finger, "perhaps this is familiar as well." He snapped the digit as the Templar screamed and tried to get away. "Of perhaps this?" Another finger was snapped.
"Makers sake," Garrett grabbed the mercenary before he could break another finger, "his men are dead, is there really a need for torture?" The mercenary narrowed his predator gaze at the mage, clearly unhappy at having his authority questioned. Garrett stepped back before he could get a knife to the belly. He had seen this once before, when Sebastian Vael had hired the company to deal with the Flint mercenary company that had killed his family. One of the leaders had been boasting about raping Sebastian's sister and nieces right before the attack. Johann had taken care to save him for last, taking him away to his Darktown headquarters for 'questions'. Garrett hadn't seen what Johann had done to the man, but he had seen the body a few days later when it was tossed without ceremony into the sewers. There wasn't a single inch of skin not covered in blood. Alrik, who was rumored to enjoy the same 'activities' as the Flint company mercenary was likely to receive the same treatment.
"What I do is for all the children he has raped and all victims of men such as this. I do this for everyone, for you, for her." The mercenary choked up a little at the last word, but did not release his hold on Ser Alrik. "Hold him," he ordered two of his men, removing a wooden baton from his belt. He held it high and began striking the man's head with fast, vicious blows that did not tear the skin, but left bright red welts. He hit hard enough to burst blood vessels and crack the bones of the skull without completely fracturing them. Alrik would likely diea slow death of internal hemorrhaging if left in such a state. Even Anders, who despised Templars on principal, was starting to feel a tiny amount of empathy for the man. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle, but another entirely to torture. "I think we have his attention now," one of the mercenaries handed Johann a long piece of damp cloth. Johann tied it behind Alrik's head and stuck the baton beneath the cloth at the back of Alrik's head. "Tell me about the Tranquil Solution," he barked, turning the baton once to tighten the cloth.
"Maker spit on you all. You and your apostate whore." The baton was tightened another half rotation, Alrik began squirming as the cloth pressed on his welts, "when I get out of here, I will come for every apostate that dares hide behind you and your filth." He spat, glaring at Garrett now as the cloth was tightened, "no name will save you Ferelden dogs as I drag you to the Gallows myself." A powerful kick to the kidneys stopped his tirade. Garrett's heart was racing at the thought of his mother being forced to watch him being taken from her all over again. He couldn't put her through that again.
"What is the Tranquil Solution?" The cloth was constricted tight across the Templar's forehead, slowly deforming the bone beneath, it made his watery eyes bulge from their sockets. He was crying from the pain, but still cursing them all to the furthest reaches of demon filled hells. The mercenary wasn't able to tighten the cloth much more without completely crushing the man's cranium. The other arm was popped free from it's socket, now leaving the man unable to use either arm. The two men holding him down pulled on the arms, stretching to tendons to near ripping. The remaining fingers on his right hand were all snapped in quick succession. "What is the Tranquil solution?"
"I wanted all mages made Tranquil." Alrik whimpered, with his arms almost ripped from his body and his skull nearly shattered, "I wanted them all Tranquil. They can't summon demons if they're Tranquil."
"They can't say no either, can they?" Johann knelt in front of the man, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Answer me." He gave a sharp backhanded slap. He repeated to the other cheek when he got no response. The Templar just moaned in pain and gave a weak nod. "When is the Commander going to carry out your plan?"
"She won't, she said no, please, she said no," the Templar begged, "she said it went too far."
"Why should I believe a word you say, you sniveling pile of dog shit. Where's the proof?"
"In my pocket, take it, take it please." The mercenary extracted a small rolled up scroll from the Templar's pocket. It had a broken red seal on it impressed with the Knight Commander's seal. He scanned the parchment before giving it to Garrett.
"Seems out Templar here is capable of telling the truth, the Knight Commander and the Grand Cleric both condemned the idea." Garrett saw both signatures and felt a small bit of relief. The Knight Commander was a harsh woman, but she wasn't about to force mages to undergo needlessly cruel actions for things they hadn't done. Perhaps she was more reasonable than he had initially thought. He would have to ask Aeryn in the next letter he passed through Ser Thrask.
"Thank the Maker for small mercies," Garrett breathed heavily, "I think he's given us everything we need. Please, end this now." The man was already likely dying from internal bleeding, there was no need for them to continue breaking his body. The mercenary gave him a hard sneer.
"You think he would do the same for you?" Garrett shook his head.
"No, but that's why we're better than him." The mercenary gave him a strange look and said nothing. Perhaps he didn't feel the same as Garrett. He was after all a hired killer. He may have taken up residence in Hightown, but he never pretended to be a gentle man. Mercy was a foreign idea to those who lived their lives by the blade. "We gain nothing from causing more pain."
"Not you, but" the mercenary sighed, "I suppose there is no benefit to allow this dog another breath." He took a small sharp knife and thrust up into the base of the skull, severing the brain stem. Alrik twitched and fell over dead a second later. "We should leave now, I'll send a crew to clean up before the Knight Commander even knows Alrik has left his bed." Garrett was happy to leave the place behind. The journey back to the Darktown entrance they had used earlier seemed somehow longer than the trip into the cavern. Anders easily kept pace with the other mage, watching his pale face for any sign of impending panic or sickness. He had seen the color drain from Garrett's face as the mercenary had taken his sweet time interrogating Alrik. The viciousness of the act suggested that this had been far more personal for the mercenary than he let on. He would ask Garrett later if he was up to answering any questions. It probably would be a while before that happened though. Instead, he contented himself with placing the occasional concerned touch to Garrett's shoulder and forearm to send the smallest bits of calming spirit energy. Isabela and Varric cast worried glances over their shoulders at Garrett, but let Anders handle the situation. Isabela was not one to deal with strong emotions unless it involved a lot of alcohol and a flat surface. Varric would normally step in at this point, but he decided to let the healer do his job. It would also be more likely that of all of them, Anders would understand what was bothering his fellow mage.
They went their separate ways once they reached Lowtown. Varric and Isabela went to go have a drink at the Hanged Man. The two mages were invited to join, but politely turned them down. Anders made up an excuse that Garrett and he were going to drop by Gamlen's place to deliver his weekly stipend. It wasn't entirely untrue, but they had already taken care of that particular trial that morning after buying herbs from the market. Perhaps it was unnecessary to lie to Garrett's friends, Varric has this expression that suggests he already knows. Varric has been a good friend to both of them, so he feels a bit guilty about lying to the dwarf, but he can always make up for it with stories about the near impossible stories of the Warden Commander and a few pints of the Amaranthine ale in Garrett's cellar.
Their way back up to Hightown was slow. Garrett was panting by the time they had reached the final level of stairs. He was pale and sweating. With barely a seconds warning he ducked into one of the small alleyways and vomited. He emptied the content of his stomach, giving a few dry heaves before he was able to calm himself down again. He knelt with his forehead pressed against the cold stone, a welcome sensation on his feverish skin. He had shut his eyes and tried to force the swirling emotions back down. Memories that he had long buried crawled through the barrier of his mind to burn sharply beneath his closed eyelids. He was angry and scared and disgusted and confused, all knotting up his insides. It was the solid cold stone and warm hands on his back that kept him from going into a full panic attack. Anders was rubbing large soothing circles on his back, whispering soft words that he barely heard.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, not daring to open his eyes. He didn't want to see the other mage look at him with pity. He knew he must look absolutely pathetic.
"Don't say that, please," Anders pet the soft, dark hair that curled ever so slightly at the base of Garrett's neck. "You have nothing to be sorry about." The dark haired mage wasn't shaking so violently anymore, just the occasional shiver that was due more to the night chill than any panic. They stayed there for a bit as Garrett calmed himself. Anders wanted to take him into his arms to chase off any remaining anxiety his mageling was feeling. He wasn't sure that doing so in the middle of a dark alley was the best idea and decided to wait until they were back under the safety of the Amell estate's roof.
It took some doing, but he managed to get Garrett back on his feet. Even on his feet, Garrett held onto him, using the other man as an anchor. The other mage kept a tight grip on his hand as they continued home.
The house was quiet when they got home, everyone having retired to bed hours ago. It was probably a good thing, Anders didn't think Leandra would appreciate him bringing her son home in such a state. He led Garrett to the library and got him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire was already lit, likely Orana or Bodahn had added more wood before going to bed. The bright orange blaze cast away the last remnants of the night chill, warming both men from head to toe.
"You must think I'm pathetic," Anders looked to his left, Garrett had buried his face in his hands, "getting so worked up over something like that."
"No, I don't think that at all," Garrett peeked up from his hands, "I'd be worried if you didn't feel something. You're a good person, Garrett." He smiled at the younger man, "much better than most people. You actually care about the people around you, rather than wanting to use them for an end." He wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulder and pulled him to his side. Garrett took the opportunity to lay his head against his shoulder, soaking up the comfort like a sponge. It bordered on hopping the line between platonic and romantic, but Garrett needed him and he wasn't about to refuse his mageling when he clearly needed him.
"When I was still living in Lothering there was a group of Templars who had been hunting apostates in the Kocari Wilds." Garrett's breath tickled Anders' neck as he spoke, "I remember them bringing in a Chasind man in chains. They said he had tried to use blood magic on a girl, but I think they were wrong. Father said he couldn't sense any magic on the man. He said they had probably grabbed the wrong person. I wanted to help, but Father said if we did the Templars would just take us instead." Anders tightened his arm instinctively at the notion of Templars coming after Garrett. Garrett didn't mind the gesture as he continued to talk, "they took him into the small holding area under the Chantry and that was the last time we saw him alive. I don't know what they did, but I could hear him screaming for days. It didn't even sound human at the end." Even now, he could recall those terrible, inhuman sounds that no person should be able to make. More like the sounds of a dying animal than a man. "When they were done, they hung his body near the edge of the Wilds as a warning for any apostates that might attempt to flee. He was so bloody and broken, I didn't think it was real at first. It was….horrible. His people weren't even allowed to take his body for burial. I was always terrified what would happen to me or Beth or Father if the Templars found us." Garrett was right to fear, an escaped Circle mage was unlikely to be brought back for judgment. The Templars would have simply judged him a maleficar and run him through without provocation. The nightmares had plagued him for years, sometimes he would see the Chasind man's broken body swinging in the breeze, other times it was Beth or his father. They had never completely gone away, but they were less frequent.
"And seeing Alrik being tortured made you think of the Chasind?" Garrett nodded, "Andraste's flaming knickers, I'm impressed you held it together down there."
"I should have handled it better. Alrik was a terrible person, I shouldn't feel bad about someone hurting him." Garrett tried to move away, but the older man's strong arm prevented him from getting away. He couldn't let Garrett run away again, not physically or emotionally. He needed Garrett to trust him, to let him help.
"He was a waste of a human being, but you shouldn't carry the guilt. You did try to prevent unnecessary casualties, it's not your fault that Alrik's men attacked first. And if you tried, you wouldn't have been able to stop Johann from doing what he wanted. You'd have just gotten a knife in the stomach." Anders silently cursed the man for forcing Garrett to relive the trauma of his youth. If he thought he could have gotten away with all his limbs attached, he would have punched the mercenary. He had disliked the man for being a hired blade, now he hated him for potentially traumatizing Garrett further. "I don't blame you for anything, and you shouldn't either. You tried to do the right thing." He moved so that he could look into the other man's eyes, "men like Ser Alrik do not deserve your compassion. Please, let it go." Garrett's eyes dropped, unable to hold his gaze.
"I'll try, no promises."
"That's all I can ask then," Garrett gave a watery smile, "would you like for me to stay up with you for a while?" Garrett nodded and settled back against Anders, resting his cheek against the older man's chest. He closed his eyes as strong fingers stroked his scalp. He felt safe and warm for the first time that evening. He began to drift off, exhausted and relaxed, content in knowing that someone who wanted him protected and happy was nearby.
As Garrett slipped into the Fade, Anders pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He would keep him safe tonight. Tomorrow would bring its challenges all too quickly, but for now, he would enjoy the closeness and completeness that this night brought. He pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover them. He fell asleep with his nose pressed into thick dark hair that smelled of cedar and ozone, a smile finding its way to his lips as he dreamed of a beautiful young man with eyes that rivaled gemstones in their brilliance. The man in his arms dreamed of a healer whose hair shone like a brand new sovereign in the sun. When Orana went to clean up the fireplace in the morning she found both of them asleep, tightly wrapped in each other's arms with soft sleepy smiles that the waking world had yet to take away.
NOTE: Even Morrigan manages to pop up. Looks like everyone is getting a cameo!