Chapter 41: The Grey Ones

"Let the Grey Ones rise from the ashes of destruction," a solemn voice cried out in the empty darkness. "Let them feast upon the souls of the vanquished, of the evil that prey upon all life…"

Low voices murmured in reply and Anders, curious as to what he was hearing, edged closer to the group of shadows. As he arrived at the scene, he espied four figures, of men attired in various clothings. Three wore long robes while the one in the middle had on a set of grey armor, with spikes coming out of his shoulder guards and kneepads. All in all, he looked quite dangerous and Anders immediately brought up his guard, knowing how dangerous the Fade could be.

"It appears someone has joined us, at last. Our long-lost brother," the speaker said to the confused Anders. "Come join us, Razakiel, for you are the youngest and the most respected of the Old Gods…"

Fire burned brightly into the clear night sky and Anders knew that it was fire borne from the oldest form of magic, the first form of magic and he screamed as the men surrounding him changed into the leviathan monsters they were best known for.

"Cry not, mortal," the leader spoke quietly to him and a clawed hand reached out for him. The black talons wrapped around his form and the apostate couldn't help but tremble as he was brought closer to that terrible face.

Black eyes glared at him. Unlike the stories he was constantly told in his childhood, those dark eyes held an intangible emotion, an ageless wisdom such that he had never been blessed to see and experience.

"Dumat," the dragon to the left of the speaker spoke out in a hushed whisper. "He is yet to be corrupted."

"And he will stay uncorrupted, thanks to this unforeseen event. He's bound by law, by magic to this Hawke character."

"The Hawke of Legend?" Another hissed angrily. "He should be slain now! The sins of his father will consume him whole."

"Silence!" The dragon's voice boomed. The clawed hand tightened around Anders, making it harder for the mage to breathe. "He is now the consort to our brethren and as such, should be treated with respect!"

The others bowed their heads in submission, knowing that their leader had spoken rightly. All had taken a lover but each had fallen into darkness with their awakening.

"We have lost Urthemiel to the darkness. We must save our two brethren for if they follow Urthemiel, then the world will burn. You, dear brother," the dragon focused on the mortal it held in its grasp. "You must get out of Kirkwall…return to us…"

"Return to us…" someone murmured to him and Anders found himself slowly opening his eyes. There, peering down at him was this enigmatic stranger that he connected with. Those gentle golden eyes stared down at him, reminding him all too well of the powerful ruler of the sky. The Hawkes…

The beard, tidied and shaved at the edges, was now largely unkempt and darker. The face was still slightly pale but other than that, he bore no physical evidence of being gutted with a longsword.

Arren Hawke's old clothes were replaced by clean tunics, in shades of light blue and dark brown. It nicely contrasted with those topaz orbs and Anders' hand reached out to cup the man's cheek, marveling in his good luck at finding his partner, the person who would understand him in his hopeless plight against the Templars, against the world who hated mages.

Arren smiled and he leaned against the palm that laid against his cheek. Anders' body thrummed lightly when he felt a soft kiss and the large, broad-shouldered man leaned down.

"You're safe…I'll keep you safe…on my blood and honour…" was the promise that eased his fears of being found by the Templars. "Sleep…my love…"

A strange but not unwelcomed lethargy swept through Anders' body and his eyelids felt heavy. He wanted to keep Arren in his view, to not lose sight of that handsome visage. However, Arren's sleep spell was too strong for him to keep conscious any longer. A hand squeezed his in a reassuring grip and Anders let go, knowing that Arren would be there for him.

-o0o-

"Arren's lucky that man was with us," Leandra pointed out as she stirred the small wooden pot of soup of vegetables and rabbit meat. "He would have died before even getting on the ship…if…if…."

The wooden spoon clattered against the pot and a stifled sob came out.

Bethany brought her mother into her arms and hugged her tightly. Carver at first looked awkwardly at the pair of them before finally covering the two of them with his arms.

"It's ok, mother," Bethany whispered to her as their mother placed her head in Carver's shoulders, the tears wetting his shirt. "We're together at least. Father would not have wanted anything bad happen to us."

"I know…" Leandra said between sniffles. "It's just…it feels different…as if this wasn't supposed to happen…"

"Hush, mum. Don't say that. We're here and we're together."

It was a simple fact that brought all of them comfort. It reminded them that despite all the hardships they went through, they still had each other. So wound up in this moment, they failed to notice a much larger apparition watching them with sad but relieved eyes. It looked to the door and whispered something before vanishing completely.

As if in response to the whisper, the door shimmered quietly with power but neither Bethany nor Carver caught it, all too engrossed in comforting their mother.

" I better check up on Arren and Anders," Bethany spoke out almost in a whisper, afraid to break this momentous silence. Their mother nodded and she withdrew herself from her childrens' arms. She composed herself rather quickly, brushing away her tears with her hands.

"I'll finish supper then."

"I'm coming with you, Bethany," Carver said bluntly, giving his sister no room to argue. If she had anything to say, the younger mage merely kept it to herself.

The pair entered the only other room their Uncle Gamlen's house had and saw that their brother was already awake. In fact, he looked a lot better than their healer did, considering that his gut wound almost took him into the Fade.

He sat on the stool that Anders had previously occupied in merely hours ago. His posture was hunched in almost and Bethany's heart clenched at the sight of her distraught brother. In public, he had always proven to be strong: back straight, eyes focused and clear with steady hands that never strayed far from his staff and dirks.

Now, his posture signified something she had never thought he would portray: defeat or maybe simple fatigue. It was something that was not Arren Hawke and she immediately went to his side. Almost in reflex, he had grabbed at his staff. So tired was he that he had difficulty in realizing that he was in his Uncle Gamlen's shack, with his family members all holed up in the shanty two-room household. At least that's what Bethany theorized.

"Arren?" Her hand shook as she tried to touch him. His head jerked slightly and his eyes, slightly glazed over, brightened at recognizing her face.

"Hey, Bethany," his voice croaked a bit and he put a hand to his throat, in an attempt to clear it.

"You're ok, Arren?" She asked in a rather timid voice. Arren was known for his temper and his powerful magic, but he never turned his anger on his family.

"Yeah, I'm alright, thanks to him," Arren murmured in a hushed voice as if he was afraid of waking up the healer. The blonde mage made a soft sound and Arren's eyes brightened up. He scooted impossibly closer to him and Bethany could tell that he was waiting for Anders to wake up. However, the other mage stayed asleep. He merely shifted to the edge of the cot, clearly trying to stay near the source of warmth, namely Arren.

The youngest sibling gave a sad smile at the scene in front of her. Her brother looked so sad then and she hoped that this man, whoever he is, would pull through.

-TBC-

A/N: Sorry for the delay! School's been hectic and I should be studying for my finals right now instead of writing short chappies for various stories. Please, with sugar on top, review?