Chapter 41 - Heartbreak

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Repeated in Anders head like a mantra as he paced the small space afforded to him within his private chambers, much like a pendulum swinging faster and faster; only he felt as if he were moving against the forces of gravity rather than with them. Every step he took fueled his fury to greater heights until he felt as if he might spontaneously combust …and as a mage he knew it wasn't quite out of the realm of possibility.

Anders had been pacing like this for what felt like hours. Ever since that witch Morrigan had sauntered into the dining hall and announced that Falcon was awake. The relief amongst his companions at the news was palpable, but nothing they felt could compare to the wave of emotion that crashed over him in that moment. For days he had done little else beyond focusing on Falcon's teetering health. There were times he knew that she had been close to point of no return. It had taken all of his collected knowledge and energy to pull her back from the brink, and although he had told the others days ago that she was out of danger there had still been a part of him that feared the worst. Infections were unpredictable at best. He had seen patients like Falcon take a turn for the better only to suddenly worsen and die. When there was nothing else he could do but wait he had turned to prayer, though he held little hope that the Maker would listen to the appeals of an apostate. Just knowing that she had regained consciousness was alleviating, and certainly a step in the right direction.

Anders had tried to keep his cool but his impatience had gotten the better of him, spurring him on ahead of the others as they traipsed up the stairs to her rooms. He'd been giddy in his relief, as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't felt this light-hearted in weeks, and it had been nearly overwhelming in its intensity. It was like electricity humming under his skin; like that pleasant buzz that washed over him after a couple snifters of his favorite brandy. He wanted to whoop with joy. He wanted to sing with rapture and dance like a dervish, and then laugh until his stomach hurt and the tears were streaming down his face. He had not been prepared to find her locked in a passionate embrace with him, nor had he been prepared for the crushing pain that followed. In mere seconds his entire world came tumbling down around him and all he could do was stand frozen in place and stare like a lack-witted fool. Gutted, Anders had walked away before the others could see the anguish that was surely written across his face.

He had only himself to blame, really. Hadn't he already known what Falcon's decision was? He had known it, in fact, almost before that abomination of a woman had announced it for all the world as if it were some perverse internal joke. Yet despite everything some tiny sliver of his subconscious had held out hope. Perhaps Flemeth had been mistaken…perhaps she had intentionally lied to them…or perhaps you didn't want to believe that Falcon had chosen someone else over you, a tiny voice in his head interjected. Anders scowled, knowing that the voice was right, but not fully wanting to admit it.

In truth he really hadn't had time to let it fully sink in. He had been too busy trying to keep her alive to really think through the ramifications of Flemeth's words…even with Howe's constant, annoying presence hovering in the background. It was seeing the two of them together that had truly brought the harsh reality of it crashing down on him.

She was in love with him.

Even if Flemeth had never said anything he would have known it just by the expression on her face as she and that overbearing bastard devoured each other like it was their last meal. Her eyes had been closed but the emotion was still plain to see, even from across the room. It was more than longing, more than passion (though there was certainly that in spades). It was profound and intense need;as if her very life depended on Howe's touch. Anders had dreamed of seeing that very expression on her face, only in his dream it was he that she was thinking of and not the "Baron of Brood", as he had been calling him in his head for weeks. A stab of pain shot through his chest as he relived the scene over and over again in his mind. He wondered if this is what Howe felt when he had walked in on him and Falcon kissing all those weeks ago…and then dismissed the thought out of hand. The man hadn't known with the same certainty as he that Falcon was exactly where she wanted to be and with whom she wanted to be with. It was not the same. Not in the least.

Anders scowled again as he glanced at the half-filled satchel lying on his bed. He had gone straight to his chambers after fleeing Falcon's room and immediately began packing what meager belongings he had. He only stopped when he realized what he was doing and stared at the bag in disbelief. He'd been acting on adrenaline and instinct alone, but the action itself had allowed some of the fog to clear from his mind, if only enough to make him stand back and think about what he was doing. That's when the pacing began.

If he left now he would not only be a fugitive from the Circle but from the Order of the Grey as well. It would only be a matter of time before one or the other caught up with him, whether they used his phylactery or traced him through the taint in his blood. If the templars caught him he would be executed on the spot, and if the wardens caught him…well, from what Falcon told him the wardens were about as keen on deserters as the army was...so he would be executed on the spot. It was a grim reminder of how few choices he had as an apostate, but could he really spend the rest of his days watching the woman he loved with someone else? It's not that he thought Falcon to be cruel enough to flaunt her newly budding relationship, but no matter how discreet they were there would always be little reminders, whether it be heated glances from across the fire or little touches here or there as couples often shared. Soon they would be sharing a bed as well (or a tent depending on their locale), and he couldn't bear the thought that he would wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of their lovemaking. As if it wasn't hard enough knowing that the rest of his life was to be spent killing darkspawn, he had to do it while slowly being tortured. But…if he left now he would be breaking his promise to Falcon, effectively destroying their friendship and her trust in him. Worse still, he would be proving Howe right. The very idea made his blood boil. Anders sighed and ran his hands through his hair. As much as he knew that staying would be the right course of action, he couldn't ignore the voice in the back of his head that insisted that he run. Still...where would he go? Orlais? Antiva? The Free Marches? He heard Kirkwall was nice this time of year...

"If you are planning what I think you are, mage, then you are a greater fool than even I initially gave you credit for," a sultry, feminine voice called from across the room.

Anders glanced at Morrigan's lithe form leaning in his open doorway, her cat-like eyes sparkling with mischief even as her lips curled up into a mocking grin.

"Did no one ever teach you how to knock before entering?" he growled.

"'Tis a rather pointless custom in the Wilds, but if you insist," she replied as she raised her hand and rapped her knuckles once sharply against the wooden doorway before sauntering into the room. Anders sighed.

"Can't you find someone else to annoy? I'm in no mood for company," Anders said as he continued pacing.

"Aww, poor little apostate lost his heart and can't bear to see her with someone else. What ever shall he do?" she cooed, her mocking tone grating to his ears. She chuckled as his face reddened and his jaw flexed in barely contained anger. "Come now, don't look so surprised," Morrigan continued as she slowly approached him, her hips swaying seductively with every step. "I've seen the way you look at her, all your pretty castles in the sky as clear as day on that handsome face of yours. A shame, really. You could have saved yourself a world of pain had your eyes only been open to the truth."

Morrigan reached out and touched his face as she spoke, her eyes dancing with the same ridicule that dripped from every word.

"Are you naturally this bitchy or do you actually have a point?" Anders snapped as he slapped her hand away from his face. Morrigan smirked, looking very much like a cat with a bowl of cream.

"Falcon and the Howe boy are bound, more so than any petty service your Chantry could hope to acquire. Their futures are intertwined and have always been thus. Even from the very first moment they met, though they were not but children at the time. It is a rare and powerful thing, something you as a mage should already have picked up on. Mages have always been more sensitive to such things. Then again, if you hadn't been so busy drooling all over yourself like a mabari in heat you might have sensed it as I have."

"You lie!" Anders spat as he closed the distance between them and grabbed Morrigan roughly by the arms. "You know nothing about me or my feelings. What do you even know about love?"

"I know enough to recognize it, and I know you…or at least your type. You will howl and beat at your chest for a time, but then you shall meet another, more suitable woman, and you shall forget all about your ridiculous infatuation. Tsk, tsk, tsk…do not give me that look! I am not implying that I am that woman…though if you are seeking a certain…release from your self-inflicted sorrows, I would not turn you from my bed."

Morrigan's eyes traveled over the length of his body as she said these last words, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as she met his gaze again and shot him a predatory smile that sent a jolt of pure lust shooting through him. He was disgusted and rather ashamed by his sudden arousal, yet hardly surprised by it. Morrigan was a beautiful woman and it had been far too long since he last had sex. But as intrigued as he was by her offer, he knew better than to accept it. If he were to take her now he would be thinking of Falcon the entire time. He couldn't do that to her or to himself…no matter how tempted he might be. He growled and shoved her hard against the cold stone wall, more out of his own frustration than any anger he harbored. She laughed a husky, sensuous laugh that sent another bolt of desire straight to his groin. He abruptly let her go and crossed the room in the attempt to put as much distance as possible between them.

"What is it that you want, Morrigan? Surely you didn't come here just to get a rise out of me…and if you did…well, then you succeeded admirably. Just…go. Leave me alone to my misery."

"Is it I that is leaving or is it you?" she asked, her head tilting to one side as she glanced at the satchel on the bed behind him.

"That is none of your business," he growled, as he took up his pacing once again.

"It is when you tempt fate," Morrigan snapped, her demeanor turning deadly serious. "Know this…if you leave now, she will most assuredly die."

Anders froze, his face draining of all its color.

"How could you possibly know that?" he asked, eyes narrowing at her.

"'Tis easy enough to see if one is looking in the right direction. The darkspawn shall not wait forever. When they strike it will be when it's least expected, and in greater numbers than you can fathom. She needs you."

"No she doesn't," Anders replied sadly. "She has Howe…the other wardens as well. Whether I am here or not will make little difference in the end."

"Without your presence she will fall…they will all fall, and without the wardens the darkspawn will destroy everything in their path. Is that what you want?"

"Velanna can heal just as well as—"

"But she's not you," Morrigan interrupted. "She hasn't your skill or knowledge, nor does she have the same trust Falcon places in you. She needs more than a healer…she needs someone she can count on. She needs a friend."

"Don't you get it? She doesn't want me!" Anders practically bellowed as his anger began to boil over.

"So what?"

"Excuse me?"

"So. What? This has nothing to do with your petty jealousies. We're talking about her life, mage. Did you spend all this time healing her only to stand back and watch her die?"

"Oh, and you did any better?" he asked as a cruel smile twisted his lips. "Falcon told me all about you…about what you are…and what you did. One of the legendary witch of the wilds…more like bitch of the wilds if you ask me. A cruel, conniving, heartless retch that is just as remorseless in her actions as she is morally and emotionally uninhibited. You betrayed her trust and it nearly led to her death. How are you any better than me?"

Anders saw a brief flash of something that might have been hurt in Morrigan's eyes and immediately felt guilty. It wasn't like him to be this cruel, even when goaded. Perhaps he had gone a little too far. As little as he knew or cared about Morrigan she had still saved their lives. Any charitable thoughts, however, were forgotten with the woman's next words.

"Better to be a heartless bitch than a sniveling, cowardly buffoon who would rather run from his problems than to face them like a man," she said in a cold hard voice, eyes narrowing until they were barely more than slits. "Perhaps I misjudged you after all."

"Get out," he whispered in barely contained fury.

"Gladly," she retorted before turning on her heal to leave. She stopped in the open doorway and shot a scathing glance back at him, chin raised in haughty insolence as her eyes snapped in quiet fury. "I came here merely to warn you," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Heed my words or ignore them, 'tis a decision you alone can make."

And with that she disappeared, leaving Anders to stew over her words.