Disclaimer:

Dragon Age I and II belong to Bioware.

All the copyrights associated with the world and characters of Dragon Age belong to them.

Only the ideas contained within this story are my property.

This is just for fun, not profit.

Synopsis:

Follows the events of Dragon Age II. Spared by Hawke after destroying the Chantry and hunted by everyone else, Anders flees to the only place that he ever called home... only to find himself in a situation that once again gets out of hand. Eventual AndersxOC. Yes, it's one of those fics.

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Chapter 7

He carried her, bruised and bloodied and unconscious but alive, back to his parents' hut. The sweat trickled in his back as he panted and there was no Justice to goad him on, but still he persisted, against the current of the cool evening, racing alongside the dangers of the night.

The stars were bright in the sky when he reached the hut and banged on the door. The last thing he remembered before collapsing was the golden light streaming out as the door opened.

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He awoke to a hauntingly familiar scent and his mother's clear grey eyes.

"Here," she said, giving him a steaming mug. She held her hands over his as they smiled at each other.

He sipped a little, eyes closed in remembrance. "Your special tea?"

"You remember?"

"Of course I do." He closed his eyes, his smile widening. "I missed it."

As he looked around, he saw his father bending over Rhys, who was resting in a makeshift bed close to the fireplace.

"I must attend to Rhys."

"The girl? She's sleeping."

He made to rise, his vision blurring a little as he did. "I must see to her wound, make sure it is properly cleaned."

"I saw to it."

He turned towards his father. "And how would you know?"

"You may not remember, but I used to be something of a healer. It runs in the family."

"In the family. Right." His words came out harsher than he intended; his mother flinched a little, then stood up. "I will fetch some more firewood."

Anders rose. "You will do no such thing; I am more than able."

She smiled a little. "Sun, I have managed by myself for years. It is no burden. Rest." She kissed his forehead and left, door creaking as it closed again.

He heard the older man chuckle. "She's lying, you know. That's my chore. She wants us to talk."

He couldn't help it; he gritted his teeth. "I will leave only if she bids me to."

He heard, rather than saw, the older man sigh heavily. "I would not drive you away again, sun. Try to understand. I did what I thought was best then."

"Best? Best for whom?" He noticed his voice rising in pitch. Maker, I will not let the man get to me. I am not twelve anymore.

"I was scared." His father lowered his head. "I was relieved at the time, I will not lie. We were still young and I thought another son would replace you just as well. But we had no more children.

I know there is bad blood between us, but let us bury it for now. For her."

"You bring her into this? You dare?"

"I am not a demon, boy, nor am I blind. I do have a heart. To lose you again would kill her. And that I would avoid." Standing up, he extended his hand.

Anders eyed it warily.

"I am not asking for forgiveness," his father said. "All I want is peace. For your mother's sake."

Anders looked at his hand for a while. Finally, he extended his own hand as well.

"For my mother's sake." He let go as if burned. "I must see to Rhys now."

"There is boiled cloth in the cauldron. I will go help Radlia."

Once he heard the door close again, he softly exhaled and turned to examine the girl.

As he examined the wound, he was surprised to see that his father hadn't lied and that he had, in fact, removed the bullet. He had no idea how he had been able to do that. He sent a burst of magic into Rhys' body, purifying the wound. It was then he took stock of her.

She was undressed, her pale skin looking sickly in the dim light.

He hadn't noticed how small she looked before.

Even in her sleep, a pinched look of worry creased her eyebrows.

He stared on as he healed her. She wasn't a great beauty, but she was pleasing to the eye. Her short dark hair glistened in the light. Her lips, even chapped as they were now, were of a pleasing plumpness that he wouldn't mind…

Wait. Where had that though come from? He tried to divert his thoughts, but unbidden, the memory of sharing his life force with her came to mind. He now shuddered at the intimacy of the act that had been an instinctive response at the time. "No," he muttered and looked away. His eye fell on her satchel, lying next to her. She had mentioned something about some kind of sedative, he remembered. And so he searched through the sack he had come to think of as the bag of wonders. Apart from the medicine, however, he found a book of sorts, written in a neat, careful hand.

The language was incomprehensible, but that, at least, could be remedied.

He heard footsteps and started to dress her wound once again, the book safely hidden in the folds of his robes.

Soon he would learn a bit more about this strange girl.

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It was a while before he was alone again. He muttered a translation spell, smirking a little as the letters rearranged themselves into comprehensible sentences, and began to read…

First day. I am writing these lines while my unopened suitcases clutter this small room -my room. I just came back from the brief and I doubt I could get any more excited if I tried.

I so owe Andrea for getting me into this!

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Anders raised his brows. A journal? Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. If her world had so many fascinating machinery and inventions, a book would be somewhat of a novelty, perhaps left for the eccentric or the sentimentalists to use. He was torn between respecting her privacy and getting answers. He looked at the girl. She seemed fragile and alone and Maker, she had almost died because of her possessed friend. He really shouldn't…

As if sensing his gaze upon her, she moaned slightly and a word escaped her lips. "Anders…"

Oh?

Now he had to continue reading.

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May 05, 2013

The trip to Iceland was uneventful. I got to fly on business class, which was pretty awesome. I suspect Andrea had something to do with that.

A small blond man was waiting for me at the airport, holding a sign, reading "Mrs. Chrysanthi D."… in Greek. Well, well, well. As soon as I approached, he smiled and grabbed my luggage, gesturing with his head for me to follow.

Although he was very nice, he was also very quiet. I didn't get a peep out of him for the whole ride.

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Anders sighed, trying to make sense of the foreign words jumping out of the page at him.

Iceland? Greek? Peep? Fly?

Had his spell stop working already?

He wished he had devoted more time to the magic of linguistics, now. Oh, well.

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We finally approached an old grey building at Reykjavik's outskirts and he dropped me off in front of a small green door, pointed at the small doorbell, smiled and drove off before I had a chance to ask about my luggage.

Needless to say, at that point I half expected Bjork to breeze by and give me directions to the secret unicorn haven, or something.

Given no choice, I pressed the small brass doorbell and dutifully stated my name and profession at the answering voice.

I went down a flight of stairs, then down a corridor, and finally arrived at a second door, where I once again had to state my name, my rank, although this time, I also had to inform the mechanical voice that my favorite vacation spot was, in fact, Amsterdam, and no, not because of the legal pot. Andrea, you fucking idiot!

As the door opened, I got the shock of my life.

I was greeted by a huge room, full of people, computers, and bright, electric light.

I must have looked rather funny as I stood there, mouth open in shock, because a man nearby nodded at me, smiling.

"First time you come here, I take it." We shook hands as he spoke. "I'm Lorca Cortez, archaeologist. And you are…?"

"Rhys Drakou. Linguist," I added as an afterthought.

Lorca's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Any idea what you're here for?"

"Not yet," I admitted, smiling. "But the reception so far has been spectacular."

He grinned. "Wait till you're briefed!" He looked behind my back and grinned. "Hey, stranger!"

"Hi, Lorca," I heard Andrea's voice and turned, smiling as I looked at the familiar mess of curly blond hair. "Are you giving my friend a hard time?" she said, winking at me.

Lorca snorted. "Wouldn't dream of it. Don't want her thinking I'm an ass just yet!" He turned to me again. "Pleasure meeting you. I'll be seeing you soon."

I nodded. "Yeah, great meeting you too." I turned to face Andrea and gave her a big hug, whispering, "And I thought making me chat with a door about drugs was low! You've been inside TARDIS this whole time and I was none the wiser."

She looked at me, seemingly amused. "I wasn't allowed to. Classified information."

"Classified? I feel like a super secret agent already."

"Well, we'll certainly have to start serving martinis at coffee breaks then! But seriously, Rhys. Remember how we used to crave adventure? You'll be floored, I promise. Come, I'll show you to your quarters so you can freshen up and then we're off to the briefing room."

Had she just said "quarters" instead of "room"? It was then I felt as if I stepped into a James Bond movie.

Twenty minutes later, we entered an impressive looking conference room through a large metallic door, where we were greeted by a small group of three people, a woman and two men. One of the men I recognized -Cortez- which made me feel better for some reason, as if there was another familiar face there. Silly me.

Introductions were made, beverages were served, and we sat into very comfortable leather chairs.

It was Rosalind Patterson who started talking. She had introduced herself as the project's Managing Director.

"Mrs. Drakou, let me cut to the chase. You are here on Mrs. V.'s recommendation. We were given to understand that apart from being passionate about your work, you were also professional and discreet." She paused.

I nodded. "While I am grateful to Andrea for her kind words, I can only confirm the discreet part, lest I sound -"

I was cut by a rather rude snort. "As I said, to the chase! No need for pleasantries. We are aware of your credentials, as well as your background", said Patterson. Ah, a hint about my family, there. "We know you're smart and we know you won't talk. All I'm asking you is to believe."

Wait, what?

"Pierre, the lights if you please." The man next to her silently walked towards the wall and dimmed the lights as she turned a projector on. After fidgeting a bit with the controls as she mumbled under her breath the screen was filled with white.

For a moment, that is. As the man that was in front of the camera moved away, we were able to see a -wait, was that a mirror? A few people, dressed in decontamination gear, were about the room, each one seemingly absorbed in front of a screen.

Strange, to say the least.

Frowning at me -my surpise must have shown on my face-, Mrs Patterson said, "Yes, I know. You see a bloody mirror. What's so special about that? Well, let me ask you. How old would you say this thing is?"

It was my turn to frown. "Hard to say, this is not my area of expertise-"

"Humor me."

I stared at the thing. It was huge, especially compared to the people working around it in the lab. Narrow steps led to a small plateau where, two marble figures -knights or guardians, judging from their carved swords- were carved to look as if they were holding the actual mirror, a large, arched piece of glass, upright.

I stared some more. Their ears were pointed.

"Two guesses," I said. Either you're leading me on and the thing is barely a few years on, or it is a few hundred years old, albeit made from people with an overactive imagination."

Cortez smiled and winked at me.

LeBlanc's face was -well, pardon the pun- blanc.

Andrea seemed as if she could barely contain her excitement.

Patterson smirked. "Somewhat nondescript, no? Maybe even gaudy looking?"

I nodded, waiting to see where she was going with this.

"And now, my dear, the reason for that confidentiality agreement." Exiting what seemed to be the live camera feed, she opened a video file.

After a few minutes, the mirror started glowing with a pale blue light and images seemed to form.

I blinked and turned to Patterson. "what is this?"

"What do you think?" she said.

She was beginning to get on my nerves. "It looks like a TV meant to play death metal videoclips exclusively."

Everyone chuckled a bit, although I'm pretty sure they knew nothing about death metal videoclips to begin with. Well, except Andrea, that is.

Patterson continued. "I know exactly where you're coming from. But here's what you should know; this thing is not plugged anywhere. It seems to display its imagery with no apparent source of power."

I stared at her. "So, you're telling me this is a wireless TV of sorts?"

She shook her head. "No, we can't turn it on and off. From time to time, it will show scenes of people talking in somewhat archaic German, dressed in strange clothing, medieval, but not quite. It's not plugged in anywhere. It displays its imagery with no apparent source of power. And", she paused for dramatic effect...

"...carbon dating implies that this thing was made twelve thousand years ago."

I stared at her.

She stared back at me.

I couldn't help it. I turned to Andrea and asked "you made me sign a confidentiality agreement over this?"

Cortez snorted. "Yeah, that's what I said, too."

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A portal! So she was a traveler from that strange land of technological magic!

She was muttering in her sleep, in a strange language, seemingly troubled. Pausing his reading for a second, Anders lightly stroked her hair. After a while, she appeared to settle again, falling into deep sleep once more.

He looked at her, then back at the book. By tomorrow morning, he would have all the answers.