The Usual Stuff:
All Dragon Age 2 characters are copyright (c) BioWare – many thanks to them for creating a complex and engaging fantasy world and allowing me to play in it's sandbox.
Justice
At the edge of Lowtown, Hawke finally stops him. "All right. Where are we going?"
"Nowhere, my love," Anders replies. "We're here."
She glances around, brow furrowed. "Well then, what - "
"Shush!" He pulls her towards the stone wall railing and leans over the edge, looking out onto the banks of the river. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that patience is a virtue?"
"And if I actually listened to her, you know I wouldn't be here right now with the likes of you," She bumps him with her shoulder.
"I'm hurt," He pouts. "Even after all that time spent slaving away in the kitchen for her, she still prefers that wanker, Angus Bran?"
"There's no accounting for taste, now is there?"
"Well, from now on, that woman can cook her own damn breakfast," Anders says, laughing.
"No, really, Anders - what are we doing here? I thought this was supposed to cheer me up," She looks around and sighs.
I can imagine what she's thinking. It's still the same old Lowtown: a city built on mudrock, metal and murder with its dirty streets, dirty slums and dirtier people; only marginally less squalor than the undercity. Perhaps seeing it only brings back memories of living here, not so long ago. Or perhaps it is an unwanted reminder that these quests of hers – however well meaning - might actually be futile.
"We should go, Anders. Being here is clearly upsetting her."
"I'm sorry, love," She says, seeming to answering my thoughts. "It's just a little...depressing. Let's just go home,"
"Not before you tell me what's wrong."
"Seriously? Look around." She throws her hands up in the air. "What isn't wrong?"
She starts to turn away.
"Wait!" He grabs her arm. "You trust me, don't you?"
"You know I do."
"Then if you don't want to talk about it, can you at least stay? Just for a little bit?"
"But why?"
"Just wait. And listen,"
She settles herself against the snow-covered bridge in a huff, her folded arms pushing a pile of snowflakes over the edge like a fluffy, white waterfall. She leans over, watching them drift down into the cloudy, grey river below.
Anders leans over and wraps his arms around her waist, holding the warmth of her tightly against him. "It'll be worth it, love. I promise," he whispers.
"Why are we dawdling here, Anders? Much work remains to be done. She knows this."
"Look, the same goes for you. Just watch and learn, spirit. Watch and learn." "Need I remind you that I have lived for generations, and that when you are long dead, I shall still exist – far longer than a mere mortal like you could imagine? So there is nothing in this world of yours that you could possibly ever - " "No."
"What?"
"The answer is no, Justice."
"Why, you little - " "No, you need not remind me, and no, you're wrong: there's always something to learn. Even for you."
I allow Anders the last word. This time. Let the human have his pathetic delusions. Let him have this pointless little romance and let him play house with his lover. In the end, all mortal endeavours are ultimately meaningless. I will outlast them all.
A group of children ventures closer to the water's edge, pairs of skates dangling over their shoulders as they peer at the river.
"Aww!" They exclaim when they discover it still remains unfrozen. Some stop to throw stones into its murky depths before turning to trudge away.
"Oy!" Anders calls to them over the railing. One of the boys looks up. "Don't go too far, now."
The boy laughs and runs away to catch up with his friends.
"What in the Void was all that about?" Hawke asks Anders.
He shrugs. "They shouldn't give up so quickly, is all. You never know,"
"Okaaay," she says, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. "And I thought I was the one here needing medical attention,"
Anders grins down at her. "What? Sick of my particular 'brand of crazy' so soon?"
Hawke laughs. "Not so long as you keep doing what you do best, magic man."
"Oh, I intend to."
Behind us, we hear the clanking of metal and the creak of wheels rattling over the cobblestone. Anders nods and smiles at the wrinkled old man pushing a rickety wooden cart with dozens of mugs hanging around a giant black kettle.
"Best cider in all of Kirkwall, Ol' Sam's got," He remarks to Hawke. "How's business today, my good Ser?"
Old Sam shakes his head. "As rotten as all me apples be, Serah, if this blighted warm spell keeps up. Folks dun wan' cider if the weather ain't cold enough,"
"I don't believe it," Anders declares. "Those blokes in Hightown don't know what they're missing."
Hawke smiles, reaching for her coin purse. "Well, let's have us a mug or two, then."
"I'm sorry, Serah, but the cider's gone cold now," he taps the side of the large, cast iron kettle. "I's was gonna take it home to the missus to warm it up 'gain,"
"But if you do that, you're going to miss all your potential customers," Anders says.
Old Sam looks around the nearly empty market square before giving Anders a withering look, unimpressed at the idea of being teased. It seems the other Lowtown merchants haven't been having the best day, either.
"Anders," mutters Hawke, "there's no need to be sarcastic."
"But I'm not," Anders insists. "I'm serious."
"Well, he must think you're mad."
For a moment, I'm almost convinced that Anders is as well.
"I'm sorry, Ser." He says to the man. "I honestly meant no disrespect. I just think you might be a bit early in calling it a day. Besides," he touches the kettle, "it seems that the cider's warmer than you thought."
Now the man really gives Anders a look that says - as I believe his friends would say -"You're rutting insane." Still, he reaches out to touch the kettle for himself. His expression changes abruptly as he jerks his hand back in surprise. He stares in disbelief at the wisps of steam seeping out from the top of the kettle to curl upwards around the massive lid.
"Well, I'll be!" The old man exclaims. "I coulda sworn it'd gone stone cold. Ain't that somethin'." He shakes his head. "But dun tell the missus, now. She'll think I'm losin' me wits,"
"Pshaw! I'm sure you're just tired after a long day. Now how about that cuppa?"
With mugs of Kirkwall's finest cider in hand, Anders and Hawke watch Old Sam as he pushes his cart into the square and towards the merchant stalls, whistling a jaunty tune.
"And I suppose now you'll tell me that was an appropriate use of a fire spell, mage?"
Anders lifts the mug to his lips and draws in a long, deep breath of it's spiced aroma before taking a sip. I can feel the sweet, hot liquid pass his lips and slide smoothly down his throat and into his belly where the warmth of it spreads a tingle through his back and out to the very tips of his toes.
He smiles, recognizing the same contented expression on Hawke's face as she slowly sips her own cider, eyes closed, the warmth bringing a rosy glow to her cheeks.
Anders sighs. "Absolutely," he tells me.
He leans over and gives Hawke a quick peck on the nose before handing her his mug, "Hold this for me, won't you, love?"
Startled, Hawke asks, "Where you off to?"
"I'll be right back. Oh, and one more thing: I need you to close your eyes."
"What? Why?"
"It's a surprise, silly. Just promise,"
She sighs, but complies nonetheless. "Okay, but - "
"You stay right there. No peeking! And - as tempting as it is - don't even think of drinking my cider," he says, watching to make sure her eyes are still closed and tiptoes away and scrambles down under the bridge and out of sight.
Daylight is slowly fading. The sun has begun to dip below the horizon, it's muted rays stretching orange and pink across the stone of the buildings and into the riverbank. It won't be long now before the merchant stalls close and the market is completely deserted.
Anders glances around. There's no one in sight. This is promising, he thinks to himself.
"You are wasting your time, mage. Not to mention your energy. And you still don't know if this half-brained idea of yours will even work."
"Oh, come on, Justice. It's worth a shot, isn't it? You have to admit, it's for a good cause. For once, can you please try not to be such a - I don't know - a stick-in-the-mud?"
I'm surprised by the way that name rankles me. I remember how irritating it was when that dwarf, Varric, once referred to me that way.
"Very well, mage. Have it your way. If it fails, you cannot blame me."
Anders takes a deep breath and clears his mind. In moments, he has opened the door to the Fade within him, and magic is flowing through it and out his fingertips.
I can feel his intent. It flows in and through me with mana. I join with him, filling each of his limbs with my presence until both of our magics move as one, like two sets of hands grasping the same heavy rope, pulling in unison with all of our strength. But instead of a rope, we are pulling at the river.
No, we have become the river. How else to explain how it feels when we draw a stream of water up and over the riverbank and push it, inch by inch until it winds its way into the market. I can almost feel myself in the water - as though it is me, snaking my way through the cracks in the pavement.
Anders' energy is flagging, but we don't stop until the water pools itself into a round lake right in the middle of the square.
Then, calling upon an ice spell, Anders stoops down to place his palm onto the water. We feel the hard coldness beneath it spread faster and faster along the ground until the pool of water we've created is completely frozen over.
After this, Anders stumbles slightly and nearly falls to one knee in exhaustion.
"Wait," he says. "There's one more thing."
Somehow, he manages to pull himself up along the riverbank, grabbing at the underside of the bridge above to steady himself. With one last burst of concentration, he closes his eyes and thrusts his hand upwards, sending focused sparks of fire from each of his fingertips.
When Anders finally looks up, he sees the boy from before, staring bug-eyed and slack-jawed in awe.
"I told you this was a bad idea," I say.
Anders straightens himself up to his full height and adjusts the cuffs of his coat. He walks up the riverbank past the boy, smiling. Then he holds his finger to his mouth and winks. "Don't forget your skates, boy."
With a huge grin, the boy lets out a gleeful whoop and runs up the riverbank, ice skates in tow.
"Aww, you opened your eyes! Silly Muffin," Anders says when we rejoin Hawke back at the foot of the bridge.
"Sorry, love. I couldn't help it, what with all the commotion. Where were you, anyway?"
"Nowhere special," He says. "What did I miss?"
"See for yourself," Hawke links her arm in his and steers him towards the Lowtown market square, now filling with people.
The lanterns above have all been lit. They cast their warm glow upon the square below, which has been transformed into a large, round skating rink. Children are lacing up their skates and have eagerly begun gliding around, chasing each other across the ice and filling the once-quiet square with laughter.
"You...wouldn't by chance have anything to do with this, would you?" Hawke gives Anders a sly, sidelong glance.
"I've no idea what you're talking about, Muffin," He replies, trying to hide a smirk.
"I suppose..." "Yes, Justice?"
"I change my mind."
"Oh?"
"This was a good idea after all."
All around, the merchants are getting into the spirit, happily welcoming all the people who've come out of the surrounding homes and into the square to see what all the hubbub is about. Across the way, Old Sam's apple cider cart is lined up with customers. He beams with a toothy grin and waves when he sees us. The snow has begun to fall again.
"Well, c'mon then! What are you waiting for?" Anders grabs Hawke by the hand and pulls her across the ice.
"Hey!" she says, giggling as she slides along behind him. When he stops abruptly to face her, she begins to skid. "Whoa!" She slams into him full force and sends him tumbling backwards. She trips and gets pulled down right with him.
"Oof!"
They lie there in a tangled heap in the middle of the ice and begin to laugh hysterically.
Hawke leans over him, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Above her, falling snowflakes crown her head with soft, sparkling light.
"Yup," Anders says to me, "definitely worth it."