Rejection

This takes place between Act 1 and Act 2 (closer to Act 1 because Olivia was absolutely smitten with Anders by the time the Deep Roads Expedition rolled around).

Something was wrong. Olivia heard hushed voices up ahead, right around the corner of the street. It was probably a group of thugs, one of the gangs she was trying to get off the streets. It was late, and she was alone, but she could still take them. She'd end up with a few scrapes and bruises, but she could go to Anders' clinic and get him to heal them. He'd lecture her about fighting alone, but it would be worth it if she got to see him.

She grabbed her staff off her back and peeked around the corner, finding herself staring at a large group of templars. She quickly ducked out of sight, fear taking hold of her. They didn't know the newest member of the nobility was a mage, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was just going to have to wait until they left, just to be safe.

Olivia couldn't help but overhear them talking about their assignments. The group here was to raid Lowtown, while another group was raiding Darktown—right by Anders' clinic.

Her stomach flipped, adrenaline kicking her into high gear. She needed to warn him before the templars got to him. If she didn't get there first… she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

She raced down to Darktown, almost running right into a group of the mage-hunting warriors. She wasn't exactly thinking straight, and she had to force herself to see past her fears and be smart. Getting herself caught wasn't going to help Anders. She carefully maneuvered her way to the clinic, only to find it empty.

Anders was gone.

"Anders?" she called out in a loud whisper. There was no reply and she panicked. "Anders?!" When there was no answer again, dread crept up her spine, and she felt like she was going to retch. Anders was gone, the templars took him and they would kill him or worse and—

Movement behind her attracted her attention, and she whirled around, staff in hand, electricity dancing between her fingertips. As soon as she saw it was only Anders, she let out a breath of relief and relaxed, lowering her staff and letting her magic fade.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyes wide as he stepped up to her.

"I overheard the templars talking about coming here," Olivia started. "I thought—"

He didn't give her the chance to finish, dragging her away as templars approached the clinic, their voices growing louder by the second. Anders pulled her into a hidden fissure in the wall, obscured from anyone who wasn't looking for it or didn't know where it was.

The little crevice was cramped and dark, the two mages a hairs breadth from each other, even with their backs against opposite walls. Olivia could hear her heart thumping loudly in her chest, not just because of the templars just outside. The other reason for her erratic heartbeat focused on listening for the templars, seemingly unaware of what he was doing to her.

She didn't calm down until Anders did, his gaze falling on her. She averted her eyes from his, trying to ignore the fact that they were so close together. Maker, she shouldn't be thinking of such things when they had just been in such danger.

"I think they're gone, he said quietly. "But we should stay hidden a while longer to be safe."

Olivia nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear and tentatively glancing back at him. His brow was furrowed and he didn't look very pleased. "Anders?"

"Why did you come here?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"I wanted to warn you about the templars."

"If they had seen you using magic they would have killed you."

"I'd like to see them try," she scoffed.

"Liv, I'm serious," he said, exasperated. "If something had happened to you…"

She gasped, her eyes wide. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"

Anders hesitated, but finally nodded. "Yes," he murmured. "Of course I was worried about you."

"Maker, Anders, why do you think I came here? I was worried about you, too," Olivia said. She swallowed hard, the memory of how terrified she felt still fresh in her mind. "When I got here and I couldn't find you… I was so scared." she started, her eyes on his.

"Olivia—"

"No, let me finish," she interrupted. "I thought I'd lost you. That they had taken you and killed you… or worse."

Anders sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she muttered. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

He didn't respond, but she could see he his mind working, as if he were trying to decide something. Her gaze drifted down to his lips, and she quickly looked back up to his eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed—but the look he gave her said he did. They stared at each other, neither of them daring to move, until Olivia couldn't take it anymore. She thought she almost lost him—her friend, the one man she could be herself around, the man she cared for—and she needed him to understand that. He needed to know how much he meant to her.

So she grabbed him by the coat and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his.

He stiffened at first, tense and unmoving, but then he kissed her back—Maker, he kissed her back—and it was better than she'd imagined it would be. She forgot about the templars, about everything, except how right it felt to be in his arms, lips locked together.

When she pulled back Anders continued to stare at her, almost in awe. Olivia held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything. He frowned, his brows knitting together, and her stomach dropped. He pulled his hands from her, hers falling from his coat as he pressed himself back against the wall, as far away from her as he could possibly get in the cramped space.

"Anders, no," she whispered, shaking her head. She reached for him again, but he caught her wrist, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Olivia, we can't," he breathed, not meeting her eyes.

"Look at me," she demanded, and he reluctantly obeyed. "You kissed me back. You can't tell me that you don't feel something for me."

"I… I don't."

"You're lying!" she said, almost whining. She could see it all over his face.

"We could never have anything," he said firmly. He released her wrist and she let it drop to her side. "I don't want to hurt you, Liv."

"That's exactly what you're doing," she said before storming away. He called after her but she ignored him, too angry and ashamed to face him. He'd rejected her, and it broke her heart.

…

She came to the clinic, days later, still longing for him despite everything he said. They came to an unspoken agreement: the kiss never happened. Things were awkward at first, but they quickly slipped back into the friendship they had before. If all she could be to him was his friend, she would take it, because it was better than not having him in her life. But there was still a part of her that hoped that one day they could be more.