Part 3 is here… and the plot bunnies just keep coming. On a side note, Towards Better Things will get updated later this week, most probably.

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Three

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Illyria managed to unfasten part of the bindings holding the armor around her arm, but her current limitation, most of the work still fell to Anders. But with his patient being conscious and actually worried for her modesty in the company of strangers, it was much easier to focus on the chaste and more important intention of checking on her renewed injury.

His instinct was right; the wound was in a worse condition than before, though not as bad as he had feared. The armor plates had been moving against her shoulder for the majority of the day, padding or no, and no amount of care could hide the obvious signs of physical exertion. Reddened skin, the slowly healing tissue cracked and oozing a little…

"When you say training, are you usually referring to getting pummeled by a squad of suicidal bears?" With Illyria conscious, Anders was faced with another problem. A renewed wound could most easily be healed by his magic, but revealing his well-kept secret to a woman he had known for all but a day was risky, to put it mildly. "Or possibly squirrels? Those little buggers can get through crack in armor while distracting you with their fluffy tails, I hear."

Illyria laughed a little, but ended on a hiss of pain. Anders managed to get her arm out of its sleeve and pull it out of her undershirt after she allowed a few buttons near her neckline to be opened. Fortunately, she kept her cuirass from sliding down from her chest entirely with her left arm, keeping herself covered despite looking as if she had crawled out of bed.

"It got a little rough, I suppose." She supposed? If he had undergone such a beating, he'd have stayed in bed for two weeks, dreaming of candy kittens the entire time. "There are times when I prefer my academic education to swords." she added, wincing at further contact from careful fingers.

"You've undone at least part of the healing from yesterday." Anders had to resort to the partly-effective healing poultices he carried around mostly for show. Magic had its own vibe and he didn't yet know how Illyria's body would react to his energy. "If you keep doing this, there's a chance you'll end up with a scar. You can be a fearsome fighter without having to willingly disfigure yourself, you know."

After a moment, Illyria finally got used to his touch and allowed her arm to relax. He wished he could say the same; if he didn't know that she also had a righteous heart, he would have at least been able to dismiss her as a shallow distraction. Of course, that way, they would never have met.

"Well, long sleeves are in fashion for a reason." The healing salves worked, though they usually took time; again, magic would have been greatly helpful here, but Anders knew the dangers. "It also gives me a reason to visit you." She said that almost shyly, which provided a jarring contrast to the armor and almost glitteringly shiny sword at her side.

"I'm certainly grateful for the company. Free food brought by beautiful women might just be my favorite combination in the world now." Illyria wasn't looking anywhere near at him, though, instead gazing at the elven family with peculiar fondness. Then perhaps she meant you as in not just him, specifically… "And your presence can do much good here, of course."

"You have me beaten on that account. My particular talents can destroy and defend, at best. There's hardly need for more swords here."

Indeed, but there definitely was a need for a just cause they could be rallied behind. "We all play are parts, equally important. And, honestly, right now I'm applying a pre-prepared cure to a treated wound. Hardly a science."

Oddly, Illyria seemed to be laughing silently at some sort of private joke. She didn't explain, though. "Do you hope to practice at a hospital in the city? You could get through the guard that way. I'm certain they'd only ask for a letter or recommendation or display of your skill."

Of course, she was right. But that was the exact problem. "I'm not a performer; I'm a healer. And, in any case, those I treat usually have little knowledge of writing. Unless you're offering to write me a recommendation?"

"I'd have to wait for some results before I decide."

Anders felt himself smile, which had last happened last long enough ago to feel almost peculiar. "I accept your challenge, milady. Let's see if I can earn your approval and, by extension, my dinner."

Battle injuries – all right, training injuries – were usually dealt with in a much less entertaining way, so Illyria found herself actually somewhat happy with her own lack of focus for the first time ever. It was soothing to watch a family that was happy together in a way she would never experience. It had always been her and a servant, her and a Chantry sister or her and a bunch of templars. Oh, and occasionally her and Mother, but never anything like this.

Her shoulder hurt a little less now, too, so there was only one tiny dark cloud marring her sunshine of happiness. The simple question that was running through two minds at the same time. How do you feel about mages? Specifically, what do you think of apostates?

She didn't really know what she'd do if Anders turned out to be one, or if he laughed off her suspicions with utmost ease. She had experienced healing magic a few times before, but wasn't entirely certain if she'd remember what it felt like, or if it had any truly distinctive feeling at all aside from a slight tingling near the wound. But she was somehow content not to press the issue, at least not yet.

"So how come you manage to sneak in and out of the city so easily? I'm getting envious of this mystery woman routine you're managing to pull." Anders remarked conversationally as he continued working on her injury. He had moved to sit behind her now to have a closer look at the other side of her shoulder. The bolt had almost pierced her entire shoulder.

"The way out is hardly guarded. I can more quietly if I need to… and if the guard happens to take notice of me, I can always ask them nicely to let me go."

This, finally, succeeded in getting Anders to laugh. "I'm certain politeness is the way to any guard's heart, especially if a lovely lady with a sharp blade is the one doing the asking. I'm not sure they'd be much concerned with your pedigree under those circumstances."

"I'm not a noble, per se." Templar titles weren't hereditary, nor were they particularly noble. But things functioned a bit differently in Kirkwall and no one questioned that the Knight-Commander ruled, no matter how ordinary her blood. "But my family is influential in some ways. In any case, I look the part of someone who has business in the city, so I need not worry. What about you, though?" Illyria tilted her head and waved back at Vanora when the elf-girl made Ser Eilrys wave at her from their little plate of roast meet. "Isn't your friend expecting you?"

"The last letter I received came a few weeks ago, and I sent word that I'd try to come. If I'm lucky, I'll eventually manage to get into the city. And then we'll see from there." Anders rewrapped her shoulder deftly, trying to use a clean part of the bandage. "I'm not even going to try to convince you not to practice tomorrow. You've succeeded in spoiling me. Like I said, good food and a beautiful woman as company? I can think of precious little else I'd want right now."

"You're a man of simple tastes, then." Once again, her shoulder felt almost good, but she hadn't succeeded in getting herself to spoil the moment by alluding to magic of any kind, literal or figurative. "That isn't a bad thing. Do you intend to stay in Kirkwall after you see your friend?"

"Honestly? I don't know. There are things I could accomplish here… but I'm not certain this is the place to start." There was something wistful yet desperate in the way he said it, which proved to be an odd combination. Illyria had the strangest feeling that he, too, had been forced onto a path he didn't like and now was discovering the aimlessness of freedom. That was what her mother was most against – her being aimless. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about, though. I could see myself staying."

Illyria found herself smiling. "That sounds reasonable. Kirkwall isn't that bad of a city once you get into the swing of things. Thank you for helping me again." she added when given the task of holding her armor plates in place in order for Anders to retie them. "You've certainly earned my recommendation. But my word won't be enough to get you in. I-"

"What's the matter?" Anders got back into her field of vision, looking somewhat concerned when she cut herself off so abruptly.

It was a crazy idea… but it could work. "I can get you in." Illyria corrected herself, glancing up into his incredulous eyes.

After a moment or so of the mental equivalent of crickets chirping in his brain, Anders swallowed the initial question fueled by the paranoia natural to his new lifestyle – why would you? – and turned his attention to other matters. Like, say, properly tying the laces of Illyria's wrist guard instead of making a pretty bow out of them. And, of course, asking the actual question.

"A moment ago, you said your word isn't enough." he pointed out reasonably, "And I'm reasonably certain you don't intend to bribe your way through or slaughter the guards. Because if that's the offer, then I'll have to respectfully decline." He didn't need any further attention.

But Illyria shook her head fervently. "Nothing like that, I promise you. But there is a way. You'd just have to give me a day or two to arrange everything. I'd be able to get all that I need and get you in the city. After that, though, I'm not sure what to do." she admitted, "I'd like to help further, but-"

"You can't house a ragged stranger in an upstanding family's home. No, I understand completely." Anders added when she opened her mouth to deny it. They barely knew each other, his reason reminded him, and two encounters certainly didn't warrant risking everything for his well-being. "If you succeed in bringing me past the gates, I would already be grateful." Here, he paused. "When you say you can get me past the gates, you mean a single person, don't you?"

It was a bit of a low blow, for certain, but Anders had no intention of guilt-tripping his possible savior. If she got him out of the encampment before templars decided to descend upon it, he'd certainly be indebted to her, more than she knew. But, whatever her daring plan, she couldn't take more than was necessary – certainly not a family with a child. Illyria understood the implication well and looked at the happy elves with great sadness.

"Not a single person." she said unexpectedly, "A single human. An elf wouldn't be very convincing in the role needed. I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do."

"Don't blame yourself. I wouldn't want to separate a family in any case. Besides, with the Blight over, even if they get returned to Ferelden, they have a chance for a life." Beggars on the street of one city were beggars anywhere, after all, so it hardly made a difference. At least they had each other, and no higher purpose beyond their actions. He still had the burning need to see Karl and ensure his safety… and an increasing desire not to leave his personal ray of hope behind so quickly. "Tell me about this plan of yours."

"I can't promise anything yet. But I'll do my best. It should work, assuming you can act a little." Ah, a disguise, then. Illyria was looking at him just a little peculiarly, though, as if trying to measure his acting talent by glances alone. "Are you up for that?"

"You haven't given me any details, but I think I'd be able to do it. But… why are you doing this?" Out of a sense of honor, of goodness, of debt? Anders felt any of those could be the answer, but he needed to know, somehow. "You've shown me and others great kindness without any hope for a reward. I know I've helped a little, but for you to take such a risk for my sake is beyond anything I expected, especially since you hardly know me."

"I know enough. And I think Kirkwall needs more people who don't ask rewards for good deeds." Illyria noted, looking a little thoughtful.

Her hair was almost like a golden flame in the firelight, coming unbound at her shoulders. Her words were very appealing to the new side of him, but Anders could still appreciate even outward beauty when he saw it. Six months ago, he'd have ticked off two items on his must-have list, swept her off her feet with a song in his heart and called himself a happy man. The strong temptation to still go through with that plan and the cold buzz of disapproval at the back of his mind were a testament to her appeal.

"If this plan should succeed and I enter the city with your help… would it be permissible for a dirt-poor healer to sometimes visit you when you have need of my skill?" The onslaught of coldness in his mind was as strong as if he had proclaimed his undying love for her. Given the way things were going, Anders wasn't ruling it out yet.

Especially since Illyria's incredulous look softened. "I was about to mention that was the price." she said gently, and the world lit up through her smile.

He wouldn't have lasted much longer; Anders was still far too close to his previous incarnation to be able to resist such an onslaught to the senses without claiming a small part of it. Fortunately, Vanora had grown tired of playing with her dinner and ran over to them to pester Illyria with questions about Kirkwall, about her armor, her sword, and was she a knight like Ser Eilrys? In turn, Illyria asked a bit about her home, about her parents and if she missed anything from home. The mother came over to start thanking Illyria again and again for the rescue and the food and the blanket.

She had to leave soon afterwards, but not before playing with Vanora for a little while. Anders caught on quickly that the elf-child's parents were watching not only their daughter with fondness, but also his and Illyria's interactions with the child. One didn't have to be particularly astute to understand that the mother, at least, was allowing gratitude to color her sight and picturing this as a chance meeting that had perhaps had a much deeper reason.

But Grey Wardens couldn't have children. Abominations couldn't give promises. And kindness from Illyria hardly seemed like a rare commodity. Still, he didn't want to imagine things he couldn't have. He had once succeeded in mostly convincing himself that many meaningless encounters could substitute a single non-fabricated emotion; he had been alone before. It was just the weariness of his task getting to him, the hopelessness.

Illyria squeezed his hand firmly before disappearing into the night. He spent the rest of the day trying to forget the feeling, or associate it with some inner strength.

What would happen once she found out what he was? If their association wasn't going to be a one-time encounter – it already wasn't, as the unforgetting presence in his mind reminded him - she'd have to learn the truth eventually. Maybe not that of his true nature, but if he told her of his magic and she didn't turn away… then he'd have an ally and perhaps more. He'd been alone for too long – that was one of the reasons why he had latched onto any news from Karl so quickly.

Only those with business in the city were being allowed into Kirkwall. And Anders certainly had business there now.

There were many plans being laid around for an uneventful day in Kirkwall. Illyria Stannard had hatched a brilliant if insane plan to get a person past the guards without rousing her mother's suspicion. It was a delicate, time-consuming operation, but she believed she could pull it off.

Knight-Captain Cullen was also a man with a plan. That plan involved finding out why his otherwise stellar new student turned up bone-tired every day, but substituted energy with outright gusto before fleeing the training grounds whenever the clock gave her the signal. Lady Stannard was making immense improvements. Lady Stannard also fought with the ferocity of a barbarian and the grace of a bronto on a unicycle.

She was surprised when a break was called prematurely during her fifth lesson.

"Milady, you seem distracted." That was the politest way Cullen could put it. Yet even distracted, she could wipe the floor with him and many others. "May I ask what's wrong? The Knight-Commander hasn't decided to intensify your training regimen, I gather?"

"I'm fine, Serah Cullen. Really." Oh, now that was convincing. "But perhaps you could help me a little – I haven't had much luck in the Chantry's library. It's sort of a templar-related question."

"I'm certain the Commander could help you better than I, milady." Though it was an unexpected honor and distinct pleasure for him that Lady Stannard had thought to ask him first. "I'll answer what I can, as long as it doesn't concern things my oaths forbid me to reveal."

They resumed their training session mid-conversation, as if nothing was going on. And then, Illyria found the right words.

"I've been trying to learn more about apostates. I'm told Ferelden's Circle had less frequent, but more serious escapes. Perhaps you would indulge me and tell me more about runaway mages." Here, she won the duel, because Cullen was shocked into carelessness. She disarmed him readily, then continued with her question. "If they aren't hostile, how would you recognize one? Is there some outward sign of their magic?"

It would have probably been gentle if she'd just socked him in the jaw and finished him off at this point.

Still, he had made a promise, and the Maker hardly looked kindly upon those who broke their oaths. So Cullen scrambled to his feet, grateful for the lack of an audience at this point. "I certainly… didn't expect that question, milady. I should remind you that any apostates you might encounter are best left to trained templars."

"I might not always have that luxury." she replied diplomatically, sheathing her weapon for the moment. "And I'd like to understand such dangers better myself. Who knows? You might even succeed in converting me to the templar cause." Illyria almost had to bite her tongue to keep her sardonic laugh in check.

The Knight-Captain didn't look entirely convinced, but obliged her nonetheless. He carefully kept anything of substance out of the conversation, but Illyria was patient and sat through the entire lecture. The greatest danger of mages, of course, was that they looked like anyone else – a man, a woman, a child. Until they used their power, it was almost impossible to identify them; Harrowed mages were mostly able to control their powers and used them at the bidding of those with wisdom. He almost came close to admitting that not all mages were entirely bad.

The bottom line was, there were no sure-fire methods. The best way to out a mage was to get them into a situation where they could either use their powers or die – or, short of that, suffer some great hurt. The worst of maleficarum usually chose that moment to bring forth their demons. So, all in all, certainly not what Illyria wanted to hear.

She thanked the templar nonetheless, a little more knowledgeable.

"If I may ask, milady, why this sudden interest in apostates? People usually ask these questions if they suspect someone of being one."

"I very much doubt they do." she said before she could think it over.

Cullen had the decency to look a little sheepish. "True, many without education about the nature of magic are quick to accuse anyone of possessing it for whatever selfish reason. But you grew up among templars and have had some contact with mages. I think your accusations would hardly be unfounded."

"I'm touched by your faith in me, Serah, but this is but idle curiosity. The Knight-Commander would hardly allow me to mingle with would-be apostates before receiving my oath that I'd become one of her flock."

Cullen had heard something about that; some of his own men were scheduled to perform a routine sweep of the refugee camps outside and, apparently, the Lady Stannard had wanted to do that herself. Still, he understood her mother's sentiments; though a brilliant fighter otherwise, she had no experience with opponents with magic. Not that he really believed her excuse about curiosity – the Stannards never did anything without reason, either one of them.

"Lady Stannard… I hope I'm not being too forward in the matter, but please don't hesitate to bring any suspicions of yours to my attention. I will treat them with the utmost care and even secrecy before they can be confirmed, if it eases your mind."

Even if that went somewhat against his training and oaths. Maker, he had to stop his descent down the path to madness; now that he finally had the opportunity to take a wife and have a family, he just had to choose yet another unattainable woman. Meredith would skin him alive before she allowed her daughter to be courted by a foreigner with a past, no matter how efficient. It was perhaps part of the reason why Cullen threw everything into his work nowadays.

Lady Stannard smiled and suddenly even the evisceration seemed a somewhat reasonable price. "I believe that. Thank you, though, Knight-Captain. It's very appreciated."

"My… my pleasure, milady." Cullen managed to get out a complete sentence, fortunately.

And she invited him to eat lunch with her later on, something that earned Cullen the most timid hate-filled glances in the world from the majority of the courtyard.

Illyria herself decided to go through with her initial plan that night. She didn't really know where that was going to lead or why she was so intent on following through with it, but she remembered her mother's words – she couldn't be neutral. And so, for the first time, she picked a side.