Chapter 38

Farewell

There was a time, what felt like only yesterday, when he had looked into the mirror and a youthful, carefree face had stared back. No lines around the eyes, no grey hair forming almost seamlessly through the lustrous golden blonde; skin firm and smooth, not slack and a little dull.

Birthdays were becoming more and more depressing every year. Before all of this, being joined with a spirit, being actively passionate about the revolution, being in constant danger every day of discovery and death, or worse, he had never truly noticed any of these seemingly radical changes in his appearance. He hadn't even noticed birthdays, as such, except as a tool to track his age. Now, as his thirty third year loomed at the end of the week, he felt suddenly old. As if, the last time he checked, he had been seventeen, on the run and without a care in the world.

A small, red spider began crawling tirelessly up the mirrors edge. Anders watched it for a while, its delicate legs shifting one after the other over the rough sided glass. He heard a crow cawing in the garden, it's coarse, abrasive call harsh against the pervading silence. The dark haze of early morning obscured the snow clouds, leaving the room in pervasive shadow. The air was bitterly chill against his face and hands. Reflected in the mirror the window showed small flurries of snow twirling past the glass, illuminated by the lantern on the windowsill. Winter had descended early on Kirkwall. The snow lay in the streets and the birds flocked north en masse, as if startled at the sudden chill in the air and the wind.

Not exactly the best time for travelling, I'll admit, Anders thought as he continued to stare into the mirror, but it's not as if I have much choice. It had been a further three weeks since Hawke's birthday and everything was in the final stages of preparation. I can't believe I'm really doing this, he thought as he stood from the chair by the dressing table and wandered across the bedroom to look down onto the bed. Madam was curled in a tight ball at the foot of the bed, he small body nestled into the folds in the thick duvet. Hawke lay under the covers, only the top half of his head visible, his hair scattered about his eyes and over the pillows. Anders smiled softly as he remembered telling Hawke of his plans.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Hawke had said as he stared at Anders, seated across from him at the dining table as they ate, "you have been receiving basically threatening letters from an unknown woman, or as far as you know it's a woman, trying to lure you in with vague promises of help and perhaps dangerous magic and, on top of that, you think that they may be manipulating you maliciously through the Fade in order to get you to go home? And you want to listen to them?"

"Well, when you say it like that," Anders had said sardonically, "it makes it sound like I'm walking blindly into a trap with my eyes closed."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to exaggerate now would I," Hawke had replied just as dryly.

"I'm going, Hawke, and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind," Anders had said staunchly.

"You know what? I should be able to argue with that and yet I know I'll never get anywhere," Hawke had said furiously, "This is crazy Anders, give me one good reason why should I agree with this lunacy?"

"Because you love me," Anders had said, knowing that it was a low shot to pull, "and because I need this, more than I can maybe ever explain."

"For fucks sake," Hawke had muttered, shaking his head and sighing roughly; there had been a terse few minutes silence before Hawke seemed to change tack, "and I can't believe you didn't tell me that someone has obviously been creeping around our house without our knowledge! I know what you're like Anders, I know you like to play things close to your chest, but this is ridiculous!"

"I didn't want to..." Anders had started.

"Worry me, yes, I know," Hawke had said tightly, rubbing his face with his right hand, "honestly, you'd think that worrying was a terrible thing the way you talk about it. Why can't I worry about you? It's what people who care about each other do, they worry."

"Tell me about it," Anders had said with a snort, "I think I do enough worrying for the both of us Hawke, so just leave it to me will you? Anyway, you won't have to concern yourself. I'll write every day so that you know I'm alright and I know you won't be able to write back but..."

"What?" Hawke had locked eyes with him, a deep frown marring his forehead, "You'll write?"

"Well, yes," Anders had said a little uncertainly, "I mean, unless you'd rather I didn't..."

"Who the fuck are you going to be writing to?" Hawke had said in irritation, "Considering I'll be right next to you the whole time I think it would be more prudent to just talk to me, don't you?"

For a whole minute afterwards Anders hadn't been able to speak coherently, simply jumble half finished sentences with half finished questions. Hawke's revelation was something which, in hindsight, he should have been expecting and yet it had taken him entirely by surprise. After receiving the myriad of letters and after sorting through his thoughts and feelings and realising that he could find no evil intent, he had made up his mind and decided that the only rational thing to do would be to head to the Anderfels as soon as possible. Yet, after long deliberation with himself, he had already come to terms with the fact that he would be going alone. To find out that Hawke was willing to take on this rather momentous journey with him...it made him smile to think of it now. He had tried his best to talk Hawke out of it at the time, reminding him that he had duties here, he was Champion now, that his sister needed him, that Kirkwall needed him.

"Bethany knows how to take care of herself, I'll have Cullen looking out for her while I'm gone," Hawke had said reasonably, as if employing the Knight captain of Kirkwall was an easy feat, "and as far as Kirkwall is concerned, don't be so stupid. You are more important to me than this bloody city will ever be. I'm sure Aveline can keep the peace until I return."

That had been that, as far as Hawke was concerned. So bloody practical and decisive, Anders thought as he continued to smile at the sleeping man. He sat down on the edge of the bed carefully. The last three weeks had been a rather frantic mess of preparation. Anders was committed to getting the expedition underway as soon as possible and, as such, had begun hastily compiling a list of things they would need. The list, it turned out, was rather extensive. Two sturdy horses, fully equipped, horse blankets, saddle bags, food provisions, pots and pans, a pot stand, a tent, thick blankets, travelling packs, winter clothes, gloves, hats...it went on from there. Hawke had already told Anders that there would be more than enough money for everything but Anders had begun to doubt it as the list grew longer. Hawke, however, had simply laughed at his doubts.

"And you were all worried that I wouldn't even have enough money to pay for Fenris' mansion," Hawke had said when Anders had looked amazed at the thought of Hawke being able to afford all of the equipment, "you really have no idea just how much I have saved, do you?"

Hawke hadn't bothered to inform him as to just how much money the rogue had managed to acquire and Anders was too polite to ask. Instead he simply handed over the list which Hawke took gratefully off his hands and, after adding a few things of his own and crossing off some things he thought they wouldn't need, traipsed out into the light winter snow with Varric to do some shopping.

"I know all the best places," Varric had shrugged when Anders asked why he had volunteered to accompany Hawke, continuing with a wink, "and all the best discounts, at that."

The others had been, admittedly, a little shocked to hear of the trip but in the mainstay seemed to take it fairly well. Merrill had been worried, both that something might happen to them on the way and also that she would be left in Kirkwall on her own. Anders had felt a little guilty at that but reminded her that she still had Varric to look out for her and Bodahn and Sandal were always there if she needed anything.

"Right Daisy," Varric had said, shaking away the look of shock from his face as they sat in his suite at the Hanged Man, "and it's only for a little while I'm guessing?"

"Well," Anders had said, sipping the hot milk, honey and rum that Varric had ordered for him, "it might take quite a while. I've done some basic calculations and it looks like maybe about three months there and back, give or take a few days."

"It's a long way," Aveline had said with a shake of her head, "are you sure it's wise, considering the rising tensions due to mage uprisings throughout the land."

"I hardly think mages will be the biggest problem we have," Anders had shrugged, smiling as Aveline rolled her eyes, "and anyway, we won't be looking for diversions. There and back, that's the plan."

"I see," Varric had said with a whistle, "well then, if you need anything for the trip, then you know I'm more than happy to help. Or maybe if you need things...kept an eye on, I'm your man. If you get my drift."

"I get you Varric," Anders had smiled softly while Hawke played with the mage's fingers underneath the table, "and I appreciate it. Really, I do."

Then, once the initial shock was over with, the elf and the dwarf and the Guard Captian had set about asking him all sorts of questions about his past, ranging from embarrassing to mundane to things he would never answer. He had told them as much as he had revealed to Hawke. That he was brought up in the Anderfels, after which he was discovered by the templars and taken to the Circle in Ferelden. Of course ever sharp Varric, unlike Hawke, had picked up on the obvious discrepancy straight away and jumped on it like a mabari on a bone.

"But why Ferelden of all places?" Varric asked, "I mean, the Hossberg Circle is far closer surely. Why did they cart you half way across Thedas just to put you in another Circle tower?"

"Because..." Anders had felt Hawke's curious eyes on him as he twined their fingers together, "because I escaped from Hossberg four months after they took me there."

"And? I mean are they really so impatient with the mages who escape that, if they do, they simply dump them as a problem onto another Circle?" Varric had scoffed.

"No, it wasn't only that," Anders had said, glancing at Hawke and then away again as he strayed into the territory of things he'd rather not talk about, "it was because the only reason I escaped that first time was so I could get back home. I almost made it too, all the way back to Nordbotten. They thought that...if they took me away, so far away that there was no way I could possibly get back, that it would deter me from escaping at all."

He felt Hawke squeeze his fingers tightly, warmly, and returned the action. The irony of the templar's plans never failed to amuse him, albeit a little darkly. Carting him off to Ferelden just so he was nowhere near his mother had never deterred him from his determination to escape; in fact, it had only galvanised his will and made him resolute and indomitable in his want to be free.

It had only been as they set out to inform everyone as to their plans that Anders inquired after Isabela. It was as he asked Hawke if he knew where she was that he realised she hadn't even come to check on Hawke after the Qunari attack and his infamous duel with the Arishok. When he stated that it had been a while since he'd seen her, Hawke looked a little uncomfortable.

"What? What's wrong?" Anders asked, feeling confused at Hawke's disquiet.

"Actually, I have something to tell you about Isabela..." Hawke had sighed.

So Hawke told him everything. About the relic's true purpose, about the truth behind the Qunari attack, about Isabela's inevitable betrayal despite Hawke swearing to protect her.

"In a way, I'll admit, I'm not really surprised," Anders had said, "why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It never really came up," Hawke shrugged and yet Anders could see the disappointment and the hurt in his eyes; if there was one thing Hawke valued above all other traits then it was loyalty, and if there was one thing he hated above all others it was betrayal, "and truth be told I was kind of hoping she would turn up again at some point. Yet it's her life. I have no real say. I just wish she'd...I don't know, trusted me a little more."

Anders had purposefully forced himself not to think about Hawke's reaction to Isabela's treachery. Her actions were unlike his in that they were entirely selfish, yes, and yet in the way they affected Hawke they were far too similar to his own plans than he was comfortable with. He had taken his mind off of it all by thinking about what he was going to say to Fenris.

Oddly enough, Fenris had turned out to be the trickiest of all their companions. After things had become more settled between the three Anders had expected him to be the most understanding, what with Fenris becoming as at peace as he could be with Hawke and Anders relationship and he and the mage's tentative friendship. Instead, when Hawke invited Fenris to their house, as Anders refused to set foot in that blighted mansion of his, the elf had seemed entirely aghast at the idea.

"Are you both mad?" he had said, pacing back and forth in the main living room before the fire while Bodahn ushered Sandal into another room away from the uproar, "that's far too dangerous a journey to undertake so lightly!"

"Oh, we're hardly taking it lightly," Anders had rolled his eyes as he forced Fenris to stop pacing and handed him a cup of steaming, black coffee; the elf had eyed him for a moment before Anders sighed and took it off him to add a slosh of whiskey to the hot drink before handing it back. Hawke had looked between the two in confusion, as if he was both intrigued and amazed that they could possibly have a repertoire between them that he knew nothing about.

"I don't appreciate your flippancy, mage," Fenris had said, refusing to use Anders' name and labelling him instead, as he always did when he was angry, "have you ever even travelled that far before? I have and I'll tell you now it isn't half as easy as you'd think it would be. Countries don't appreciate people just waltzing from one land into another, especially not these days with all the tensions fraught between them."

"Which is why we're going to be careful," Hawke had said, making Fenris snort in disgust and take a short sip of his coffee, "and I've already applied for a letter from the Grand Cleric which will grant us safe passage through any land under the Divine."

"Which won't do you any good in Tevinter, now will it!" Fenris had snapped back.

"That'll be why we're not planning on going through Tevinter then," Anders had said in retort as he sipped his own tea and stared into the roaring fire.

Fenris had argued with them for what seemed to Anders like hours but was probably nothing like it. All he could surmise from the elf's growing desperation to downplay their plan as idiotic and borderline suicidal was that Fenris was simply desperate not to have Hawke leave Kirkwall. Which, admittedly, he could understand, yet it served only to irritate him. After all Fenris' talk of rescinding any claim to Hawke's affections it looked to Anders as if Fenris was still far too protective and fond of Hawke than was strictly decent, given their strictly platonic relationship. Anders had allowed Hawke to do most of the talking and, eventually, Fenris had realised that nothing was going to change the rogue's mind.

"Well," Fenris had said at last, sitting in a tall armchair and swilling the now cold dregs of his coffee around in the cup, "you didn't half pick the worst time of year to travel."

Anders had at least been able to agree with that if nothing else. Over the weeks he had studied the old and worn map of Thedas countless times, making calculations, trying to think where the best places would be to stop, to rest outside of towns, where they could get provisions on the way, how much they would need to get in between stocking up to last them until the next town. Slowly, over a week's worth of deliberating and planning, he had ended up lying on the bed with Hawke explaining his finalised ideas. He had lain on his side, the map splayed out before him on the rumpled covers, dancing in the firelight, while Hawke lay behind him with his chin in the nook of Anders neck and his hand tracing soothing but entirely distracting patterns on his hip.

"So if we head west, through the forest to Cumberland, then we can join the Imperial Highway," he had said, feeling Hawke's steady breathing against his shoulder, "then it's over into Orlais and we can make a stop at Val Chevin. From there we can head north to Montfort then all the way to Andoral's Reach. From there all we have to do is go up over the low ridge of Kal-Sharok, then it's just the last push up and over the Hunterhorn mountains and down into the Anderfels."

"Wouldn't it be easier to cut up through Nevarra a little more?" Hawke had suggested after a short pause, his hand quitting Anders hip as he leaned in heavily on the mage's back so as to point at the map, "In fact if we headed due north then the highway would take us straight to Nevarra. We could work our way up to Trevis and Nessum and then over to...well actually we could go up to Weisshaupt, stock up there, then continue through the gap in the mountain range and round to Nordbotten from there. Would save us having to climb up over that blasted ridge at all."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Anders had argued back, "I mean I'd thought of going through Nevarra but I really don't want to go that close to the Imperium..."

"Why not?" Hawke had interrupted.

"Because I think it's...it's just a bad idea," Anders had sighed as Hawke kissed at his neck, "as is going anywhere near Weisshaupt. You are aware that the main headquarters of the Grey Wardens is stationed there, aren't you? And that I'm still technically a deserter?"

"But Anders think about it," Hawke had said as he trailed his finger along the map, mimicking Anders planned route, "if we go the way you suggest then we'll be going over Kal-Sharok and the Hunterhorn ridge in the middle of winter. Now I've never been there personally but I'm guessing that they'll be covered in snow and that there won't be a viable pass at that time of year. That makes it incredibly dangerous which is something I'd rather avoid."

"I'm not going near Weisshaupt," Anders had reiterated strongly, "or Hossberg for that matter."

"Yet you'll go to Cumberland, seat of the most powerful Circle in the whole of Thedas," Hawke had said with a raise of his eyebrow.

"I won't be going anywhere near the Cumberland Circle, that's not the point," Anders had said tightly, "And don't you think I'd thought about how dangerous this whole trip will be? Why do you think I wanted to go alone in the first place?"

"Because you're a mad bastard," Hawke had said, his rough stubble rubbing against Anders' neck, "which is why you need me there to stop you doing any 'mad bastard' things. Now, let's look at this again..."

Eventually, after a few hours of arguing back and forth about the pros and cons of each decision, Anders had managed to convince Hawke that his route was their best bet; and Hawke had managed to convince him to make some adjustments. Instead of attempting to scale Kal-Sharok at all, when they reached Churneau they would go north-east and re-enter Nevara, heading to Perendale instead of north-west to Andoral's Reach. From Perendale they could skirt the foothills of Kal-Sharok and then head up to the low pass in the Hunterhorn mountains which led straight down into the Merdaine. As Anders pointed out this would add quite a few extra days onto the last leg of their journey and there wasn't a town between Perendale and Nordbotten to restock their supplies.

"Then we'll just have to take on extra at Perendale and tighten our belts until we reach the Anderfels," Hawke had said with a defeated shrug, "I'll take my bow with us so we can hunt and I'm sure we can find some small settlements along the way where we can barter food. If not we'll just have to survive on what we have until we get to Nordbotten."

Anders remembered, as he now sat on the bed where they had planned their journey, Hawke's practical and entirely realistic approach to travelling which he had greatly appreciated. He reached out and carefully carded the fingers of his left hand through Hawke's silky black hair, making the sleeping rogue moan softly in response. Everything had come together far quicker than if Anders himself had been left in charge, that the mage could admit to. He was organised, to a point, but he did tend to overestimate or underestimate and sometimes not use his common sense in relation to a decision. He wouldn't have thought of the true dangers of crossing a mountain range in the winter, or what they could do if they found themselves running out of supplies. All he could see when he looked at the map were places he couldn't go, places he wouldn't go and all the places in between. Hawke had bought all of their supplies, commissioned tailors to make fur lined coats and boots, thick gloves and hats, picked out horses from the merchant at the stables by the West Gate. I really should have expected it, Anders thought as he continued the habitual motion of his hand, considering how officious and overprotective Hawke is I'm surprised he even let me write the list in the first place.

"Hawke," he said after a further few minutes of teasing Hawke's hair through his fingers, "Hawke are you awake?"

"Mmm," Hawke murmured sleepily, slightly muffled from beneath the blanket, his eyes still closed, "yes."

He watched as Hawke blinked his green eyes open. The man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, flicking his slightly vacant gaze up to Anders, the rest of his face still hidden beneath the covers.

"It's fucking freezing," he said; Anders could hear from his tone that it wasn't a question, "isn't it."

"Of course it is," Anders smile widened, "it has started snowing again. I think it must have been doing it all night."

"Joy," Hawke said monotonously, "what a wonderful start to any journey."

"Don't be such a pessimist," Anders said as Hawke pulled the covers down a little and pushed his face up out into the open; his jaw was dark with stubble, "I was waiting for you to wake up. I'll go and make us some tea, or coffee if you'd prefer."

"Takes too long," Hawke yawned, "just tea's fine."

Anders noted that Hawke was giving him a rather inscrutable look but didn't have the wherewithal to try and figure it out. However when he stood he finally realised what that odd glint in Hawke's eyes had been about; Hawke moved too fast for him to react. The heavy bedcovers lifted up and he emerged like a funnel web spider, snatching Anders down into the warmth of the cotton sheets with a yelp before smothering them both back under the thick duvet. Anders heard the dull thud of cats paws hitting the floorboards as Madam quitted the bed while he squirmed around in the dull light under the covers, unable to see anything except the seemingly never ending folds of material that he managed to paw away from his face.

"Hawke! Honestly you..!" Anders would have continued if he hadn't suddenly found a tongue down his throat. Hands shivered up from nowhere underneath his thick shirt and caressed his bared skin while Hawke slid atop him with ease and pressed him down into the mattress. Maker he's warm, Anders thought contentedly as Hawke continued to kiss him slowly but thoroughly. After another moment's indulgence he forced himself to break the kiss and pull rather futilely at Hawke's wandering hands, "We really don't have time for this you know."

"Oh there's always time for this," Hawke replied, pulling back to allow Anders a view of his lascivious grin, his hair pushed forward awkwardly by the heavy cover over his head, "and anyway, you do remember that this is the last time we'll have a decent bed for the next week or so, don't you?"

"Yes," Anders said, realising that he was forcing himself to be tediously practical, "and I also remember that I had a bath last night for the sole purpose of being as clean as possible before setting off this morning. So as much as I would love to join you in your...endeavours," as he spoke he reached in between them to give Hawke's obvious erection a good squeeze to emphasise the word, making the man gasp, "I'll have to pass."

Anders always believed that Hawke forgot just how agile he could be when he wanted to. Which was why the rogue seemed so surprised when Anders rolled them both over and then shimmied himself out from under the covers and stood up beside the bed, brushing down his shirt and watching the squirming confused pile of bedclothes with subtle amusement.

"I'll go and get you that tea," he said smugly as he walked towards the door, picking up one of the candles he had lit that morning to light his way, Hawke still struggling to free himself.

"It won't be as fun without you..!" Hawke called after him in a sing song fashion as Anders walked out of the bedroom and across the landing.

He still found making tea a calming exercise of sorts. Stoking the fire which he had lit earlier, filling the kettle and setting it to boil, measuring out the leaves into the teapot; the routine soothed his nerves. We're really going. I'm really going home. The steam rose as he poured the freshly boiled water into the enamelled pot, watching as the leaves swirled and danced in the currents of heat.

Telling Sabine had perhaps been the hardest of them all. After displaying his own fervour and willingness to fight at the meeting, now he had to turn around and tell his closest comrade that he was leaving the city. The older woman had been rather shocked at the news, yet more in a disbelieving and angry sort of way than Merrill and Varric had been. It was only made worse by the fact that he could only give her vague and illusive reasons as to why he was leaving in the first place.

"It's for the good of the resistance Sabine, I can't stress that enough," Anders had said as seriously as he could, "if everything works the way I believe it will then you have no idea how much this will help us."

"You're right," Sabine had said back, her eyes narrowed, "and the reason I don't know is because you won't tell me, you never tell any of us your plans!"

"I can't," Anders had said strongly, "and it's not because I don't want to, it's for your own protection..."

"I'm getting more than a little tired of hearing that same excuse from you, young man," Sabine had said, making Anders smile unwittingly; it had been such a long time since anyone had called him 'young man' that hearing it from Sabine was almost comical.

"Then I'll just have to make this the last time I say it," Anders had said, making Sabine sigh harshly through her nose, "and ask you to trust me, like you always have. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't necessary, you know that, don't you?"

"...I do," Sabine had replied tightly after a few moment's silence, "but it doesn't mean that I have to like it. You had better come back safe Anders or, believe you me, I will come looking for you myself."

I can hardly blame her, Anders thought as he poured out the now dark brown tea into two cups, collecting the sodden leaves in the mesh of the small metal sieve. He had felt the exact same way when Hawke had announced he was heading off into the Deep Roads without him all those years ago. He knew what it was to wait anxiously for someone's safe return.

The thought of the reason behind his journey was something he had forced down behind planning and sorting and worrying and all of the other things he always did before a trip. Admittedly the only other trips he'd ever taken before this had been his escape attempts from the Circle, but they were surprisingly similar. The myterious woman, the letters, the band of three...they were like a subtle undercurrent towing him along. He had stuffed the letters into his napsack when Hawke wasn't looking. Better safe than sorry, he had thought even as he wondered why. What possible use could they be? Anders wasn't sure but he felt that taking them was the right thing to do. He wasn't going to think about it beyond that.

"Aren't you up yet?" Anders admonished as he re-entered the bedroom holding the two mugs awkwardly in one hand while he held the candle in the other.

"No," Hawke said matter-of-factly, still in repose under the blankets, "you didn't tell me that it was so bloody early!"

"And I also didn't tell you to wake up," Anders said wryly as he handed Hawke his tea.

"Yes, you did," Hawke said as he placed the steaming cup on the bedside table so he could wriggle up the bed into a sitting position.

"No, what I asked you was if you were awake," Anders said with a pedantic smile, sitting once more on the edge of the bed and sipping the hot liquid, feeling it warm him from the inside as it slid down his throat, "you could have just ignored me."

"You're a right cheeky bastard today, aren't you?" Hawke muttered as he picked up his tea again and began drinking it, "Anyway I'm not getting out of bed until the fecking sun shows up. Everything's already packed down at the stables, all we have to do is get ourselves ready and then outfit the horses. No need to rush."

Anders couldn't help but agree, even if he had been awake for longer than he really needed to be. He wasn't sure why he had awoken so early but it had seemed right to. He stared out of the window as he drank his tea, watching as the slow hint of dawn began to glow behind the clouds. The snow continued to fall, seeming only to thicken as time ticked by. Wonderful, Anders thought in annoyance as he finished his drink and put the empty mug onto the table next to Hawke's, just what we need.

Hawke was making no move to leave the warmth of the bed; Anders shook his head and tried to think if there was anything else he needed to do except get dressed. He had already asked Oranna to take care of Madam while they were gone, which the girl had been more than happy to do. Bodahn and Sandal would look after the mansion and all of its needs and also Fenris was staying here while the continued renovations to his house went on. In relation to the resistance Sabine and Farah were in charge until he returned and were to keep an eye on any changes to the templar situation in Kirkwall and Varric was to help them with anything they might need in his absence. Everything was seen to, everything was alright; the only thing he had to worry about now was getting himself and Hawke safely to Nordbotten and back. Easier said than done, Anders thought as he felt Hawke's hand on his arm, pulling him back down towards the bed.

"Don't tempt me," Anders said sleepily as he pulled back wearily against Hawke's grasp.

"I'm not tempting you," Hawke said with a jerk of his arm, yanking the mage down to lie against him, his head resting against the rogue's shoulder, "because I'm not giving you a choice. Now get some more sleep for Maker's sake. We have a long ride ahead of us today and we need all the energy we can muster."

Anders wanted to protest but it was too much of an effort. Instead he snuggled against Hawke, who was himself still under the duvet. Hawke wrapped him in a warm embrace and kissed the top of his head, letting out a small chuff of laughter as Madam once more leapt onto the bed, padding around warily as if she expected it the bed to once more erupt in movement and throw her off. Anders closed his eyes and revelled in the warmth and comfort which he was about to abandon for a tent in the snow.

The horses shuffled their hooves and snorted, sending out puffs of misty breath into the cold air. The stables were mainly empty, only one other horse in a stall at the far end. He and Hawke had travelled down just after dawn.

Anders had to admit that Hawke hadn't spared any expense in their transport. Both were healthy creatures and perfect for their journey; bred in the far reaches of the north they were used to low temperatures and harsh weather. He stood by his steed, a stunning, tall, chestnut brown Friesian mare, and stroked her thick mane while she swished her long tail back and forth and nickered. Hawke's purchase for himself had made Anders roll his eyes but smile affectionately when he first saw it; an elegant but well muscled Warlander stallion, its glossy black hide a beautiful contrast against the pure, white snow.

"You just had to buy yourself a big, manly horse," Anders said in amusement as Hawke secured the straps on his saddlebags, "didn't you."

"Of course," Hawke said with a grin, pulling his gloves tighter as he walked towards Anders before sliding his hands around the mage's slim waist, "you know me so well."

Anders blushed and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Thankfully the stables were empty of people as the stable hand was outside sorting them some food for their steeds. Hawke leaned in and kissed him, his lips slightly chapped from the cold. He couldn't help but note that Hawke was in an exceptionally good mood, considering the weather was so very cold and they were leaving their creature comforts behind them. Anders reached up and slid his hands into the fur lined neck of Hawke's coat, making the man let out a startled sound. When he pulled back his eyes were bright and mischievous, "Put your gloves on! Your hands are freezing."

"Why should I? It gives me all the more reason to warm them up on you," Anders smiled beguilingly as he ran his hands down Hawke's chest and then slid them deeper into his coat, feeling the thick fur against his fingers.

"You saucy little minx," Hawke purred before he kissed him again, a deep laugh rumbling though his broad shoulders; just as the rogue had slipped his tongue into Anders' mouth there was a rather nervous and embarrassed cough from the doorway of the stables. Anders sprang back as he used to do when caught trying to sneak into the forbidden section of the archives by a senior enchanter, with a look of pure innocence. He and Hawke looked to the stable hand, a girl in her late teens with ruddy red hair and a pale face which was currently stained with a deep blush.

"There's some people here to see you, Champion," she said in a small voice, eyeing Hawke with a certain amount of awe and confusion.

"Thank you Lily," Hawke said with a smile, seemingly unaffected by the unease and tension in the air.

Why is it nothing seems to bother him? Anders thought with a shake of his head, and trust him to have learned the girl's name. He's such a bloody charmer sometimes. He let Hawke take his hand, warm leather meeting cold fingers, despite his discomfort at being watched like some exotic animal by the girl as he was led out of the stables and back into the snow. He would admit that he had expected one their friends to come and see them off but not all of them. Varric, Merrill, Aveline and even Fenris were standing by the entrance to the stables, dusted lightly in an icing-sugar like layer of snow.

"Trying to sneak out undetected, were we?" Varric said with a sardonic smile, his duster laced up over a thick shirt and a thick scarf wrapped around his neck "you should know by now that nothing happens in this city without me knowing first, Hawke."

"So I should," Hawke said with a smirk, "what was I thinking?"

"Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?" Merrill asked as she shifted towards Anders; she was wearing the thick woollen coat Anders had been given by way of payment by the Darktown butcher for saving his son's life. He hadn't needed it and had passed it on to Merrill, quite sure that the girl was always freezing in winter but never admitted it. How she and Fenris managed to get by with no shoes at this time of year still baffled him.

"Of course not," Anders said with a short laugh, smiling at Merrill, "we already talked, just yesterday! I thought that was our farewell."

"Well it wasn't," Merrill admonished as Fenris rolled his eyes.

"Only you would think that saying goodbye wasn't saying goodbye," Aveline said with a shake of her head, the snow settling thickly on her red hair, turning it white.

They moved under the awning at the front of the stables so as get out of the snow.

"And here I thought you hated the cold," Hawke said, looking to Fenris with an awkward smile.

"I do," Fenris shrugged as he folded his arms against the chill, returning Hawke's smile, "but it doesn't mean I can't go out in it."

"Right," Varric said sarcastically, "it just gives you something else to complain about."

"Watch it, half pint," Fenris said, earning him a scandalised look from Varric and a badly disguised laugh from Aveline.

It was nice to know, somehow, that there were people who would happily walk out through the cold and the snow just to wish him farewell on his journey. Varric, Fenris and Aveline talked with Hawke while Anders asked Merrill to help him with the horse rations that Lily the stable hand had sorted for them.

"I can't believe you're really going," Merrill said, her tone an odd mix of excitement and wistfulness, "I mean, you've been in Kirkwall for how long now?"

"Too long," Anders said, letting out a humourless laugh and looking away from Merrill's bright eyes as she frowned at him, "I was only joking. It'll be a nice change though. I've never been beyond Ferelden and the Freemarches, well, not that I can remember anyway."

"Didn't you ever think of going home before now?" the elf asked as she handed Anders a small sack of dried horse nuts.

"Yes," Anders said a little uncertainly as he took the sack and pushed it into the saddle bag along with the stacks of compressed hay sheaf, "and no. I mean...it's a little complicated. I haven't been home in over twenty years. I'm under no illusions that I'll find my family when I get there. Not even sure if I want to, in all honesty."

Which is a half lie and a half truth, Anders thought as he and Merrill completed their task in silence. She tried to give him a reassuring smile as they walked back to the others, each pulling a horse behind them, but it didn't quite come across as strongly as Anders was sure she would have liked. She probably knows I'm not telling her the whole truth, Anders thought, Merrill's always been more perceptive than she seems.

They led the horses, clopping over the snow covered stone, to the others who were laughing at some joke Varric had just told. Hawke looked up as they brought the horses to a stop, Merrill running her hand over the stallion's neck and murmuring something to it in Dalish.

"All ready?" Hawke asked.

"All ready," Anders answered.

The final farewells were an odd mix. Merrill was a little tearful as she told Hawke to stay safe and then hugged Anders tightly, telling him sternly not to do anything rash or stupid and to come back as soon as he could. Aveline gave them both some helpful last minute advice about staying away from rumours and making sure not to travel after nightfall. She gave Hawke a friendly pat on the arm and Anders an amiable nod before turning to walk away through the snow towards Hightown. Varric was his usual charming self, making a quip about not trusting Orlesian sailors and only buying merchandise from dwarven merchants. The likelihood of running into any sailors seemed slim to Anders considering their route took them nowhere near the coast but considering Hawke laughed quite loudly at the statement, Anders thought he must have missed some in joke or other. He shrugged and waved goodbye as Varric and Merrill began to walk towards the main street. All was silent as Fenris pushed away from the wall and shook the snow from his hair.

"Well," he said, "I suppose this is where I tell you not to be an heroic idiot on your travels, Hawke."

"You mean don't be myself?" Hawke said with amusement, faking insult, "How could you?"

"Oh shut up," Fenris said, looking away before sighing, "just be careful. Both of you."

"We will," Anders said, trying to be reassuring.

"Of course," Hawke said with a warm smile; Fenris shifted on his feet, seeming to want to wish Hawke farewell properly but looking as if he wasn't quite sure what was appropriate. When he didn't move Hawke was the one to step forwards. Fenris instantly put out his hand as if to shake but Hawke simply shook his head and pulled Fenris into a tight hug. Anders watched a little uncomfortably as the elf went rigid in Hawke's grasp, his eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds before he seemed to force them back open and return the embrace a little awkwardly. He couldn't be sure if Hawke had truly noticed Fenris' reaction or not but wasn't really intent on finding out. Hawke patted Fenris on the shoulder before turning to get up onto his horse. Anders nodded to Fenris in parting.

"Bring him back safe," Fenris said suddenly, just as Anders had turned towards his horse; when he looked back he found the elf's eyes oddly beseeching.

"Nothing else comes before Hawke," Anders said; he wasn't quite sure why he said it in such a way. Perhaps, he thought as he slid his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up to swing his other leg over the saddle, he had wanted to both reassure Fenris and to warn him in the same instance. That I'm still paranoid about them is really rather sad, Anders thought regretfully, I trust Hawke but I suppose it's Fenris I don't fully understand yet. Anders shook off the black thoughts and urged his horse into a walk, the mare tossing her head a little and letting forth a whinny. They waved goodbye to Fenris as they headed towards the gate. The gate keeper checked Hawke's papers and didn't even give Anders a cursory glance as the two men rode out of the city. If only it were so easy for all mages to leave Kirkwall, Anders thought morosely.

The landscape was a wash of milky white, dotted here and there with clumps of trees and the odd fence and small escarpment. Everything was still and silent but for the horses dull footsteps and the sound of their bags creaking. The snow made the air seem thick somehow, as if it had substance, and the snow clouds made the water of the bay seem steely grey. The long, silky hairs on his horse's ankles were soon caked in snow and her mane was smattered with delicate snowflakes. Anders admitted that it wasn't the most practical weather to travel in but he couldn't help but find it rather beautiful. He held the reigns with one hand while he dug about in his pocket for his gloves, pulling them on as they turned left at the signpost for Cumberland.

"Well?" Hawke said as Anders spurred his horse forwards so as to have his mare walk beside the rogue's stallion.

"Well what?" Anders asked as they broke into a trot and headed down the shallow incline towards the main road by the coast.

"No strange and wonderful name for your new pet?" Hawke grinned, his eyes sparkling as they snow flowed around them, landing softly against Ander's skin with soft pats.

"Wanker," Anders said, sticking out his tongue juvenilely; he looked down at his horse while Hawke chuckled, noting her superior bearing and almost dainty steps, "she deserves a dignified name, something proud. I think...Brynhildr."

"Brynhildr?" Hawke repeated, frowning, "Where did you pluck that one from?"

"Oh it's..." Anders faltered, swallowing down the odd lump in his throat before he could continue, "it's from a story I was told when I was little. She was a warrior queen who angered the gods. They cursed her to stay within a castle surrounded by a ring of fire until there came a man strong enough to rescue and marry her. Which one does."

"Let me guess," Hawke said as they followed the snow covered path which was marked with a small, dilapidated fence, "it all ends in tears. These Anderfelian saga's always do."

"It's quite a sad story actually," Anders said, unable to keep the melancholy from his tone, "her one true love is tricked into marrying another by a sorceress and she marries someone else. When he remembers the truth it's all too late...the short and long of it is that he ends up dead and she kills herself in despair."

"...Right," Hawke said, trying to be kind even as he somewhat ridiculed the sentiment, "it all ended in tears."

I suppose it did, Anders thought as he and Hawke continued down towards the water to take the trail to Planasene Forest.

It all ended in tears.

AN: Hey all, just a note to say that, if anyone's interested in maps and such and would like to see Anders' and Hawke's journey plan I have put it up on my deviantart profile (the link is in my main profile). Yes, I am a sad git who likes to plan journeys out on maps and follow them closely through a story. Blame reading Tolkein from a young and impressionable age!