Notes: This chapter title is a lyric from "Dreams of Candlelight" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra from their album Beethoven's Last Night, which has as its premise that the composer is offered a Faustian bargain to redo his life and live with his great love soon after they meet. Don't read too much into that—as I said, I don't do songfic as such—but it seemed fitting in a meta kind of way.
Chapter 3: Could This Moment Last Forever
Malcolm lifted his gaze from the staff he was carving as Anders emerged from the room, attempting to look nonchalant. When he noticed that his daughter was not following, he got up, pointed his finger at Anders, and wiggled it, gesturing for the younger mage to follow him.
Here it is, Anders thought, suddenly feeling his stomach sink. He was so sure that Hawke had not objected. Was he mistaken? Nervousness grew in him as he followed the older man into the kitchen, where Malcolm closed the door behind them.
"Messere," Anders began to say, but Malcolm cut him off.
"Relax," said Malcolm. "You look like you're about to pass out." He frowned. "I'm not going to curse you, you know. I just wanted to have a talk. Man to man."
Anders leaned against the wall and breathed. Malcolm waited until he seemed more in control of himself before continuing.
"I may be many things, Anders... father, husband, woodsman, Fereldan, apostate mage... and other things. But I hope I am never a hypocrite," he began. "You know the history of this family. Of myself and my wife. If you and Cait like each other, I have no problem with it. I'd like all my children to have the life I have had."
Anders breathed again, feeling relief wash over him.
"There are some fathers who think they have the right to keep their adult daughters from what they want. I'm not one of them. Now I admit, I would see this differently if it were Bethany you had your eyes on. Or Carver, for that matter," he said dryly, enjoying the look of horror on Anders' face at that idea. "But they are not grown. If you like Cait, and she likes you, you have my blessing—though the only blessing you'd need is her own, as I said. But..." He considered his words carefully. "I do want you to consider one thing before you two get in too deep. It would be uncomfortable to her for you to remain in this household if a relationship doesn't work out between you. And while I don't want that—you're a talented mage and I'm enjoying training you, and I want both of you to be happy—you must understand that I'll put her needs first in that situation."
He nodded. "Of course. That's exactly what I would expect," he said. "I hope to... be with her. I'm not toying with your daughter. I do like her... I've never felt this way about anyone before... and I want it to last. But... if it turns out that this is a mistake... I'll return to my original plan, rather than selfishly subject her to that just so I can keep learning from you."
Malcolm gave him one of the friendly, approving pats on the shoulder that Anders was now accustomed to. "Be good to her. She's... a bit too much like me, in some ways... but unlike me, she's never known that sort of love. She never believed she would, either, since she's a mage. She's strong and tough, but..." He trailed off.
"I would never purposely hurt her," Anders said at once, "and I hope I never hurt her unintentionally either."
Malcolm gazed sadly and sympathetically at him. "I hope not too. But what matters is that you make it right even if you do." He gave him another pat. "You can come to me for advice if you like. I've been married for twenty years," he said with a grin, "and I was a Circle mage too, before that. I've been where you are. Keep that in mind." He peered at the younger mage. "Now go spend some more time with her."
Feeling lighthearted again, Anders returned to the bedroom.
"What was that about?" she asked uneasily, moving away from the window to look at him.
"Your father gave us his blessing," he replied.
"Oh," she said, coloring faintly. "I guess he really does know all about it... and I'm sure this was accompanied by the usual 'and if you hurt her, I'll kick your arse'—or, in his case, 'I'll freeze you to a block of ice and shatter you to bits.'"
He laughed, took her hands, and pulled her into an embrace. "Actually, it was just 'I'll send you to the barbarians as you originally intended.' And I'm sure you would burn me to a crisp first anyway."
She let him nuzzle her cheek. "Not a crisp. I'd just burn off your—" She broke off, her face suddenly turning blistering red at what she had almost said.
He drew back in surprise at her near-allusion. "Would you? Before you even saw them?"
"Shut it." Her face remained tomato-red.
"Make me," he challenged.
"All right." She stood on tiptoe and reached for his face for a third kiss.
After that, they both felt much more comfortable flirting and expressing mild affection in front of the rest of the household. Caitlyn found that, in addition, it became even easier to talk with Anders after they had both acknowledged their physical attraction and felt free to act upon it. There had been a subtle tension underlying their interactions before their kiss, even after they had begun to flirt. Now that barrier was gone. Anders had strong opinions against the Circles, which he shared increasingly frequently with Caitlyn when they were alone, but they also discussed their own hopes and dreams.
"I wish I could be a Healer as a profession," Anders lamented during one such talk. "The Circle sends Harrowed Healers to noble keeps sometimes, but why can't everyone have access to magical healing? But so many people will report an apostate to get the reward. They'll deny magical healing to their neighbors, even to themselves if they need it in the future, for a little gold."
"People often do act against their own long-term interest," Caitlyn agreed. "The ones who turn in Healers are just not very brave or thoughtful."
"How could it be the Maker's intent for people who can do good to be shut up or limited to serving the rich and powerful?" he groused.
"Since when have people done what the Maker would have us do?" she replied, a cynical smile on her face. She reached for him, pulling him close. "But it needn't be everything or nothing. My father is an apostate who basically helps his family and that's it, but that still means something. You can do good for us... and I hope we're good for you too!"
"You are," he replied with a smirk. "You definitely are."
"Then stick with people who care about you."
He smiled and caressed her cheek. "You're right."
One evening about a week after their first kisses, Caitlyn decided boldly to sit right beside him, and he decided, even more boldly, to play with her hair. It was a glorious red mane, wavy and rippling well past her shoulders, and he had been itching to touch it. That he had now done, of course, but he could hardly grab handfuls of it and run his fingers passionately through it in front of her parents and siblings. However, he could arrange it. It was just as silky and easy to part and braid as he'd hoped, he thought jubilantly. He parted small sections of it on either side, braided them halfway back her head, and brought the loose, unbraided tails together in a ponytail that rippled vermilion back down the middle of her head. She felt a happy, probably somewhat goofy smile spreading across her face as his talented fingers worked her hair.
"Ooh, that's pretty, Cait," Bethany cooed.
Carver scowled. "Poncy mage," he muttered under his breath. "Is that what they teach you lot in the Circle?"
"That's enough," Leandra scolded him mildly.
"Are you jealous?" Anders drawled, undeterred by this sibling's determined dislike and surliness. "I can do yours if you'd like. It won't look the same, of course."
Carver seethed. "You lay a finger on my hair and it'll be the last thing you do, apostate."
"Watch your mouth, little brother," Caitlyn said coolly. "You're talking about several of us with that word."
"Now be nice, children," said Malcolm, entering the room, droll sarcasm pouring from his words. "Don't make me send you to bed early." He gazed at his daughter's new hairstyle and nodded in approval. "Very nice. If that is what they teach in the Circle now, the curriculum must have improved from my time there. But I suspect it's just a natural sense of style, eh?"
Anders smirked and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, feeling her smile as he did.
Bethany gave her sister a pointed look as they went to bed that night. "What did I tell you?"
"All right," Caitlyn admitted, "he likes me."
The teenager laughed. "You're just now admitting that? How long will it take you to confess the rest of it?"
"The only 'rest of it' is that... we've kissed," she said defensively. "And... held each other. But that's it. There, I confessed it."
Bethany smiled. "What's it like?"
She realized that her sister was asking sincerely, and not about the physical acts themselves. She stretched on her bunk and considered the question. "It's... special," she finally said. "I feel happy, but it's also kind of frightening."
"You have seemed a lot happier lately," Bethany agreed. "You joke more. You smile more. It's good! He's good for you. What's frightening, though? Is it that he escaped from the Circle?"
"That's a part of it. I know that Father's wards are here, but... it's not right to ask him to stay indoors. Something will have to be done eventually, once spring comes. Maybe the Templars at the Circle won't ever touch his phylactery again, but I can't rest easy until I know they won't come after him." She sighed.
"What's the other scary part?"
"I don't feel comfortable talking about this with my fifteen-year-old sister," Caitlyn said.
Bethany drew herself up and peered out from her bunk, looking up at her sister. "I'm sixteen in a few months... and I do know where babies come from," she said sarcastically. "Is that it?"
Caitlyn leaned over her mattress and scowled down at her. "Go to bed."
Bethany was triumphant, but only for a moment. "He might be a virgin too, you know."
"I doubt it."
"Well, even so, if he loves you, he won't care. He'll probably like it."
"I said I'm not discussing this."
"You don't have to discuss it with me," she said. "But if and when the time is right, you should discuss it with him."
The irritation suddenly left Caitlyn. She got back fully on her bunk and lay against the pillow. "I know," she said. "But that time is not now. He's only been here three weeks. I like him—I hope he stays! And he feels the same about me. But that's not long enough to know if we love each other."
"It'll be all right," she assured her older sister. "It's like Mother and Father... except easier. You're a mage too, and our parents aren't against it. It'll be fine."
In that moment, Caitlyn wanted very much to believe her, so she did.
There was a mild thaw the following week, and Carver took advantage of the relatively balmy weather—for southern Fereldan winter—to go hunting. Leandra fretted and fussed all morning.
"I feel so bad for him," she said, wringing her hands. "You can instruct Caitlyn and Bethany, Malcolm—and Anders—but we can do nothing for him! He is truly alone in this family, and I feel that I've failed him. He learned how to use a bow and a dagger all on his own, but this new idea he has of wanting to train with a greatsword—who can teach him how to do that?"
"Leandra, you haven't failed him," Malcolm said. "You were never trained in swordsmanship or any kind of weapon."
"I would have been in Ferelden!"
"Perhaps so," he agreed. "Many noble ladies do learn the arts of war. Fereldan noblewomen are treated more equally with men than Kirkwall noblewomen. But that's not your fault! If Carver is serious about this greatsword interest, he should probably find a master-at-arms to train under. Or even consider joining the Fereldan army as a recruit. We're at peace, so it would just be an ordinary career for him, no special risk."
"He's very unhappy," she said. "You focus more on the girls, since they're mages... Cait especially... you don't see how discontented he is—"
"I do see it," Malcolm contradicted her. "I'm just at a loss to help him, and that kills me, Leandra! I want the best for all of our children, and it hurts that I can't help one of them very much. You think I'm focusing more on Caitlyn because she's a mage, but it's more that I can do more for her right now. I truly think the Maker Himself sent Anders to us that night..."
"You think they really are in love?"
"Of course they are!" he exclaimed. "I'm not sure if they realize it yet themselves, but they are. It's just like us," he offered, smiling. "I wouldn't have wished that challenge on our children... but I see now that it is my duty to do for Anders and Caitlyn what others did for me—for us. Bethany is too young still... but I am sure her time will come. I hope..." He sighed, running one hand through his fiery hair. "I hope she doesn't fall for a mage too, because it's difficult, but what is to be, will be. And as for Carver... if this greatsword business is not just a lark, encourage him to join the regulars."
"But he'll leave us if he does that!"
"Leandra," he said patiently, "it is normal for children to leave home when they grow up."
She scowled. "So if everything happens as you want it to with Cait, if you find a Ser Maurevar Carver and a sympathetic priest, and they start a family, you won't mind if they move to—oh, Halamshiral?"
He glared back at her. "That would be entirely pointless for them to do, so yes, I'd mind that. Leandra, Carver is the one who doesn't have restrictions on what he can do. Caitlyn and Bethany can live as we do, basically. Simplicity, isolation, and hiding, and that goes in spades if they have mage children. Unless they join the Grey Wardens—which I hope doesn't happen—they cannot have more than that as long as the world is the way it is, so I want them to have every form of happiness that they can. That's why I'm focused on Caitlyn these days. She wants Anders and he wants her, so yes, I want this for her and I'm trying to make it happen. Maker knows an apostate mage will have a challenging enough life; love and family is the best thing she can hope for, realistically. She can't have a 'career.' But Carver doesn't have those constraints! He could be knighted. He could become an officer. He could be anything! But because he has no restrictions, he very well might leave Lothering someday."
Leandra sighed. "I understand your argument, Malcolm, but it still seems to me that underneath this, you don't want to think about Caitlyn or Bethany leaving home, being alone in the world as mages, with all that entails, and without your protection, so you invent reasons not to."
He was about to argue further when their argument was disrupted by a terrified bellow from the yard. The dispute forgotten, Malcolm and Leandra rushed to the window. Carver himself appeared as a tiny silhouette, rushing from the woods, obviously pursued by some beast he could not kill himself.
"All three of you!" he bellowed at the closed door of the girls' bedroom, where Caitlyn, Bethany, and Anders were all present, apparently discussing magical theories. "Carver is in trouble! Outside, now!"
The door burst open and all three mages rushed out behind Malcolm. Anders momentarily hesitated about leaving the magical protection of the cottage, but it didn't matter—this was a life at stake.
The mages stood together as a group, holding their staves. Malcolm's staff oozed the dark green vapor of entropy. Caitlyn readied a fireball at whatever was pursuing her brother. Bethany prepared a kinetic force spell, and sparks of lightning crackled at the end of Anders' staff. Malcolm glanced at them and cast a silent spell. Suddenly, all four staves crackled and flashed with red flames and white lightning.
"I'll teach you lot that one later," he said as Carver joined them, his bow and dagger gleaming with the effects of the spell too, to his surprise.
"Something—bear—but—spikes," Carver burst out through gasps of breath.
"A bear with spikes?" Genuine alarm filled Malcolm's face.
They did not get to inquire further, but they did not need to. In the next second, the beast appeared: a bear, but distorted, foaming at the mouth, gaping gashes in its flesh that somehow had no effect whatever on its stamina, and—yes—spikes protruding from its body. It bounded toward the group of mages, bloody foam dripping from between its decayed fangs—
All of them hit it at once. Bethany's force spell blasted it backward, away from the protective arcane shield that Malcolm had cast around them. Caitlyn's fireball struck it in the face, setting its fur aflame, as Anders' lightning immobilized it. Carver sent arrow after arrow into the strange bear's flesh, and Malcolm's entropy magic accelerated the deleterious effects of all of these wounds.
It did not take long for the creature to die. When it finally breathed its last, Malcolm took down the arcane shield and released the spell he had cast that applied Anders' and Caitlyn's magic to everyone's weapons. He held out his staff arm, forbidding them from going closer.
"That is a bereskarn," he said, his voice deadly serious. "A Tainted bear." He gazed at the dead beast, frowning in deep concern. "It didn't hurt you, did it, Carver?"
He shook his head.
"Caitlyn—burn it. Bethany, if you can, help her. Do not touch it. You men, inside, now."
Carver was momentarily surprised at being called a man, but did not object. None of them argued, though every one of them had questions.
"Something is seriously wrong," Malcolm said once they had all had a drink. He rubbed his forehead. "The blight wolves, that night that Anders came to us... and now this."
"Father?" Caitlyn asked, suddenly very scared. "Are we about to have a Blight?"
"Please tell us the truth, whatever it is," Carver added. "We're all old enough to handle it."
He sighed deeply and took another swig of cider. "I'm not a Grey Warden, as you know. Only they can say for sure about that. But... the signs aren't good. Once in a while darkspawn come to the surface by accident, and they could taint creatures when they do, but two attacks in the same location this close together in time—this is not normal."
"Malcolm?" Leandra offered. "Your old contacts..."
"You have Grey Warden contacts?" Caitlyn burst out.
Malcolm nodded. "They also helped your mother and me. All right," he said, finishing his cider, "I will write to Duncan, the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. He needs to know about this. No, Anders, I won't tell him about you specifically—but I'll tell him that a pack of blight wolves attacked a traveler, and I'll definitely tell him about the bereskarn. Something is wrong. I hesitate to say anything more without the input of Grey Wardens, but something has changed in the Deep Roads."
Malcolm received a reply from Duncan two weeks later, urging him to come to Denerim and tell him everything in person. It was quickly decided that his wife would go with him—but no one else. The mages were uncomfortable going, and Carver seemed to want to stay at home out of pure spite, even though both of his sisters urged him to go to Denerim to pursue career opportunities. He seemed to take that as a desire to see the back of him and angrily declared that he wouldn't be the one to "tag along after Mamma and Daddy while the mages got up to Maker-knows-what."
"Suit yourself," Caitlyn declared in exasperation. She turned to her father the morning her parents were to depart. Leandra was excited; she was, after all, Kirkwall born and raised, and she occasionally voiced discontent with her simple life in the town of Lothering. Denerim wasn't Kirkwall, but it was at least a great city, the greatest that Ferelden could offer.
"You're sure you won't come?" Malcolm asked his son. Carver resolutely shook his head. "All right then. Speaking of mages getting up to Maker-knows-what, I hope you lot don't burn the house down," he said gruffly, nodding at Bethany, Caitlyn, and Anders in turn.
When his gaze settled on Anders, the younger mage gazed back at him in awe. Hawke, he realized, was including him as he spoke to his children. He saw him as an adoptive son, of a sort.
Is it because of the apprenticeship, or something more? he wondered, glancing at Caitlyn. She also had made note of that look.
Tensions ran high as Anders and the Hawkes waited for their elders to come back. While Anders had somewhat restrained himself on his favorite topic of the situation of mages in southern Thedas—no doubt by the voice of age and experience in Malcolm—he found himself repeatedly locking horns with Carver now that the Hawke parents were gone.
It wasn't that Carver argued in favor of the Circles. Whatever his issues with his older sister, he was more attached to his twin than his demeanor would generally suggest, and he didn't want his family torn apart either. However, Anders' presence without a parental figure seemed to be itself a provocation for Carver to take the hardest line he could stomach saying, simply because it got a rise out of the escaped mage without fail.
"Your sisters haven't been Harrowed!" Anders burst out one day as they sniped at each other on that detail of Circle life. "I don't see Caitlyn about to become an abomination, do you?"
He glowered. "You can't make rules based on exceptions."
"You don't even know that they are exceptions. It's not like we've tested it. It's a bad idea that doesn't make sense," he insisted. "Maybe a mage was frightened—which, of course, they would be, since the Templars strike fear into all the apprentices that they could become abominations and be cut down dead on the floor! Maybe a mage was sick that day. Maybe they had a fight with a friend. Things can happen! And even if a mage does pass, how does that prove anything?"
"It proves that they can refuse demons. You came from the Circle. Why am I telling you this?"
"It proves that they refused one demon, of one kind, in that moment," Anders insisted. "Maybe they're vulnerable to a different one."
"That is an argument for all mages to be made Tranquil, you know. You sure you want to go with it?"
Anders got really angry at that. Sparks danced from his fingertips. "I would never argue for that," he snarled. "No matter what." He glowered angrily at the young man. "If a mage commits a crime, punish them the same as any other criminal who does the same thing. Have mages themselves in the guard to do it in those cases, since there are... challenges. I just don't see why mages must be treated differently—and the Harrowing isn't necessary, nor does it prove anything meaningful." He folded his arms, suppressing the sparks, and glared defiantly.
Caitlyn finally got up from the chair on which she was seated, next to Bethany, and took his arm. He seemed to calm down at her touch. She frowned disapprovingly at both of them. "Anders, I agree with you, but give it a rest. Carver isn't the enemy."
"Oh, there's an 'enemy' now, sister?" he challenged. "You've been listening to him too much."
"The enemy is people who think all mages are monsters," she replied. "Who think we're responsible for all evil in the world." She turned to Anders. "I think you two should take a break from... talking to each other."
"Good idea," said Carver, getting to his feet. "You deal with him if you like."
"I certainly do like dealing with him," Caitlyn replied, tightening her grip on Anders' arm and prompting a smile from him. "Leave it to me."
Carver scowled as he stalked off.
In addition to the spats, Caitlyn really felt her parents' absence for a different, more pleasant—but also more frustrating—reason. This is a perfect opportunity to try things with him that I haven't had the courage to try yet, she thought—but the stubborn presence of her younger siblings prevented that. In fact, she thought sourly, Carver kept a far closer eye on them than their father had. They had been able to sneak a lot more kisses in the house with her father there. He, at least, hadn't oh-so-conveniently burst into the bedroom with an absurd question about dinner or housekeeping or some such. Carver frequently did, and it was thoroughly exasperating after the second time it happened.
"He's got a lot of bloody nerve," Anders grumbled after it had happened for the fourth time. "As far as I'm concerned, you are in charge of the household while your parents are gone. You're the oldest. Who does he think he is?"
Caitlyn glowered. "This is Mother's fault. He is her favorite, I think because he's not a mage, but also, there's something about Kirkwall nobility, I think... She defers to my father in everything except matters about me and my siblings. I think that in Kirkwall, noble families must defer to men much more than in Ferelden. No offense," she added, remembering that she was speaking to a man.
Anders had not particularly noticed that, but then again, he had not paid extra attention to anyone except Caitlyn and Malcolm. He did not want to find himself in the middle of a sibling rivalry, or to encourage a daughter's apparent resentment of her own mother, although he realized that he probably had little choice now about the first. "Well, whatever the reason, he needs to learn his place," he said hotly, "and that place is not between us." He glared at the door.
"No, it isn't," she agreed, pulling him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Their legs dangled over the side of her bunk bed as they kissed deeply, leaning backward.
Anders groaned, plunging his tongue into the depths of her cavern, wanting to be even closer. "Maker," he swore, "I think I..." He trailed off as she broke away from him, emerald eyes wide with apparent awareness of what he had not yet said. He took a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you."
She gazed at him in awe and astonishment, lifting her right hand to his cheek gently to touch him. "Really?" she said, surprised at how girlish and unsure she sounded.
He wanted to reassure her, to banish the uncertainty and fear from her. "Really," he said, pulling her close again. Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her again. "I see your parents... that's what I want. I've always wanted it. I didn't think it was possible for mages, but I know now that it is. And I want it with you."
She muffled a cry at that and surrendered to the kiss and the affections, wishing it could be more. This was so tempting. It had been almost seven weeks since they had met, and for five of those, they had not moved beyond kissing and comparatively innocent touching. She wanted so much to pull him down in her bed and just... let things run their course. The only way to face her fears was head-on, and she knew that and just wanted to get to it. But with their luck, Carver would burst in with a stupid smug grin on his face and a fake question about what to do with pickled string beans.
Neither of them realized that Bethany was seated in the common room outside the door, not deliberately eavesdropping, but unable to avoid hearing them either.
"Let's go into town," Bethany insisted later that day. "I want to see if there are any seeds for sale yet."
Carver gazed at his twin sister in surprise. "It's the end of Guardian."
"They would have been harvested last autumn. Some plants need to be planted early."
"Not this early."
"Maybe there will be some bargains," she said desperately, hoping that he would just agree.
"All right," he said, his voice odd to his ears. "If you don't mind leaving those two alone..."
"Carver, they're adults. Get over it. Besides, if they get together, they'll want to set up a little cabin of their own, I'm sure. You'll be the oldest then."
He glowered back at the cottage, but at last, he nodded and led his sister through the woods toward the road that led to Lothering.
"Your sister thinks she's so clever," Anders groused as the twins left for the woods.
"I just hope they don't run into any more Tainted animals while giving us this time," Caitlyn fretted.
"They'll both assume we got up to something when they get back."
She shook her head in exasperation. "Yes, they will—so if they'll think that anyway, I want it to be true, at least."
He gaped at her before bursting into laughter. She laughed ruefully with him. "Cait," he finally said, holding her in his arms but keeping her just far enough from him that they could see each other's faces clearly, "I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. By me or anyone else."
She caressed his cheek. "I don't. I want this. I realized that this morning, when you told me... you know. There is one thing, though." She laughed nervously and cast her gaze down, unable to meet his eyes suddenly. "Anders... you probably realized this already, but... I..." She trailed off.
He tilted her chin up so they could look each other in the eye again. "Let me guess, you're a virgin."
She looked down again, nodding, feeling heat creep to her cheeks despite her resolution not to be embarrassed. "It's not easy for an apostate mage to trust anyone to that extent. If something didn't work out... well, there are horrible people in the world who would turn a mage in to the Templars as retaliation for a breakup—"
He grimaced, utterly appalled at that idea; it was one that had actually never even occurred to him despite his focus on the plight of mages; but of course, it was a perfectly reasonable thing for her to fear. "Caitlyn. Listen. It doesn't matter to me."
She finally dared to meet his eyes again. "But I assumed you probably weren't..."
"I'm not," he said. "It still doesn't matter! In fact..." He sighed, pulling his legs fully onto her bunk bed and stretching them out in front of him. "I feel a little guilty—not really about the fact that I'm not, but the reason I'm not. The first day we really talked, when you confronted me about flirting idly with you..."
"Don't remind me of what I said!" she exclaimed. "I was horrible to you."
"What you said had a grain of truth to it," he insisted. "I didn't sleep with any Circle mages, because I didn't want to get a girl with child knowing that the Chantry would take the baby away... but that would have been more 'real' than the 'experience' I do have. When I escaped previously, I went to... well, to the brothel of Denerim." He felt nervous about saying it, unsure of how she would take that, but feeling it was better to get it out before they had done anything they couldn't take back. "I didn't do it intending to be a rake. It seemed more honest than risking breaking someone's heart. In those days... I didn't believe I could live the way your family lives, so I didn't try to find that. I suppose I always expected to be captured, in the back of my mind. And of course, I was."
"Anders..." Her voice was gentle, sympathy and pity for him written in her face.
"There was one previous partner I didn't pay," he said, his lips curling at the word. "A fellow customer, for one night. So—that's why I'm not a virgin. I've never slept with anyone I loved either. I'm sorry. I understand if this changes your mind about me." He gazed at her, amber eyes pleading with her, but still resigned to a dismissal.
She cupped his cheek again. "Anders. It doesn't. I do understand. It's not something I can imagine myself doing, I admit, but... I have lived a very different life, so I don't know what I would have done if I'd been locked up in the Circle for years. And it actually makes me feel better that you didn't want to hurt anyone."
He managed a weak smile.
"I was more worried that you would judge me, that you wouldn't want to touch me now."
"There are two reasons I can think of for why a man wouldn't want a woman for that reason alone," he declared. "One is if he intended to leave her soon and thought it would hurt her worse. The other is if he expected her to 'entertain' him expertly from the very beginning and wouldn't consider her otherwise." He placed his hands on her waist, his face suddenly intense and hungry. "Neither of those things is true for us. I promise you, this does not change how much I want you."
He observed the change as she processed this statement of acceptance and desire. Her eyes darkened as her pupils grew wider with desire. Her breath hitched in her chest. "Please, then," she said, her voice barely a whisper, but that was all that he needed to hear. He pulled her close again for another fierce kiss, biting her lips lightly, then pushed her back and held her away from him so that they could remove their clothes.
Despite the excitement, desire, and—yes—nervousness threatening to overwhelm her at the moment, she had just enough presence of mind not to throw her clothes to the floor, but to keep them at the foot of the bunk bed. He considered for a moment as she piled them up, then added his. She almost hated to see the feathers go... she did like the way they felt against the sensitive skin of her neck when he held her... but perhaps another time...
"Maker, you're beautiful," he burst out as she took off her chemise, leaving nothing on but her smalls and breastband. He stared at her, wanting to touch her smooth skin.
Caitlyn was surprised at how trim he was; it was not what she would have expected for a Circle mage—but then, she thought, he has escaped many times and traveled far indeed, and he's been as active as he can be here. She wanted to touch as well, and unlike him, she didn't hesitate to reach gently for him, to stroke his chest, to focus on that, to try not to stare from fascination, lust, or alarm as he took off his smallclothes.
She let him take off the wrap around her chest, noting with a certain amount of surprise and pride that his gaze was immediately captured. He had been moving to pull down her smalls, but he stopped and brought his hands back up instead to gently caress her breasts. Her eyes rolled back at the touch, and a sigh escaped her, prompting him to smile in satisfaction.
She didn't know what made her do it; perhaps it was just instinct, but some deep urge within her made her place her hands on his waist and begin to lean herself back on her pillow, pulling him on top of her. He allowed it for a few seconds until he was draped over her, then paused.
"Cait, love," he murmured, reaching again for her smalls, "are you sure about this... position? Since it's your first time, maybe I should get on my back and you can... get on top of me and... take your time. It might not hurt as much if you did that."
She realized what he was censoring himself from saying. For some reason, the embarrassment that periodically flushed her face over personal revelations was absent now. Perhaps it was because they had now seen almost all of each other's bodies, but whatever it was, she did not mince words as he had. "I know it's going to hurt no matter what, and if I did that, I'm not sure I would be able to let you move once you were all the way inside me."
He hissed and twitched at her bald words, his pupils widening, making his eyes grow dark with desire. "Maker damn it, Caitlyn."
"I also wouldn't know what I was doing," she continued, responding to his outburst with only a smirk. "Please. I want you to do it." All traces of amusement left her face at this. "You're a Healer. If it hurts, you can fix it. I want you to lead. I trust you."
Anders stared, transfixed by her words, then suddenly moved forward to whisper something in her ear, keeping his hands on her hips the whole time. He felt her flush at his question.
She pulled back, staring at him, shocked at what he had asked. "I might have," she said defiantly. "I just might have."
"Recently?"
"While thinking about you in this bed at night, you mean?" she said baldly, noting with triumph that he was surprised by her turnabout. "Perhaps." She smirked back at him. "You think you can do it better?"
"Oh, yes." Most definitely, he thought smugly. With that, he pulled off her smallclothes with a flourish, then trailed a single hand down her sensitive skin, letting his fingers linger momentarily in the triangle of red curls before sliding them into her center. His eyes widened. "You do want me," he remarked, fingers sliding down her folds. He paused for a moment. Anything to make this easier for her, he thought, dipping a single finger into her.
She closed her eyes again at the sensation, uttering a breathy moan. He took that as encouragement and gently slid a second finger inside, moving them back and forth. "That's nice," she managed to moan. "That feels so good..."
Encouraged, he slipped a third finger inside. She was beginning to stretch now—but that was just as well. Her eyes widened in surprise at the feeling, but she didn't complain. He lifted his thumb to her pearl, eliciting a shudder of surprise and pleasure from her, then quickened his movements, keeping pace with the rate of her breathing. He did not want her to reach climax just yet, but there was one more thing he wanted to do before he pulled back from this. Hiding the smirk that wanted to form on his face, he summoned a small burst of magic and pulsed shocks from his fingers in both places.
"Holy Maker." She gasped in surprise at him, feeling the slight tingle of aftershock. "Was that—a spell?" she breathed.
"It was," he said with a laugh, withdrawing his hand and trailing it back up her body, leaving a streak.
"You... really are good at electricity magic," she gasped as her chest continued to heave, staring at him in awe, smiling from under hooded eyes.
"I am sure we'll have many occasions for me to do it," Anders purred, stroking her side with the hand that was still dry. She moaned again at his touch, and for a moment, he felt bad about the fact that he was about to hurt her. I'm a Healer, he reminded himself, remembering what she had said, taking a deep breath to ready himself. A smile formed on her face, and she draped her arms around his shoulders, gazing adoringly at him. For that moment, he relished the sight, the loving gaze of a woman he cared for, with whom he wanted a future... a sight as new to him as this experience was to her.
But in the next moment, she tensed when she felt his tip at her core, her body stiffening underneath him, her breath tight in her chest. He felt bad about that; that wasn't going to help her... but he was hard as a rock and could not wait much longer, and he wasn't sure what could relax her if what he had done so far hadn't. They just needed to do it, he thought. He held her waist as gently as he could and thrust forward, feeling another pang of guilt at the momentary physical resistance he broke through and the accompanying cry from her that was not one of pleasure.
Her arms left his shoulders; she grabbed fistfuls of mattress cover on either side and gritted her teeth, silently urging him to continue—which he did as slowly as he could stand. He wasn't sure what to think of this—she was a beautiful sight, red hair lying in wavy locks all over her pillow, her gaze fixed on his and set resolutely, determined to take this because she knew that it was supposed to get better—but it was hurting her. She was so wet from his earlier ministrations that it was all he could do not to push in her to the hilt with one movement, but he had just enough self-control not to do that. She didn't burst out with a plea to stop, a fact that he noted in the back of his mind in wonder. He didn't really want to see the change in her face as he moved deeper, the widening of her eyes and pained grimace of her mouth, but neither did he want to break her gaze. She fisted the sheets tighter, her eyes finally closing as an oath escaped her lips at last.
He was not fully inside her, but this was too much for him. He had to ease her pain so that she could enjoy this. He wanted her to enjoy this. Moving his hands from her waist a little bit down, he rested his palms in the heated spot where their bodies were joined and cast a powerful burst of healing magic. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and shocked.
"Is that better?" he said. "Can I...?"
"It doesn't hurt at all now," Caitlyn gasped in amazement. She arched up, taking in another inch on her own, to his surprise, and her arms found their way back around him. She moved her legs farther apart, and he felt her relax.
Well, then, he thought. She was still extremely wet with desire, and she seemed able to take all that he longed to give her now—so he breathed deeply, staring at her green eyes, and filled her completely.
Those emerald orbs widened for a moment, making his heart thump oddly at the sight, and a gasp escaped her—but this was a good one, a gasp of pleasure, and she wriggled a bit underneath him to somehow impale herself even deeper on him. There was a sudden surge of heat on his back where her hands rested, and he realized that she had a hint of her signature flames at her fingertips—not painful, not burning, but definitely there. That was it for him; he couldn't stay still. He gazed back at her for a moment, letting his hand trail a series of mild sparks down her side, and began to move.
A hiss escaped her as his movements quickly became a delightful, easy friction deep within her, much to her surprise after how it had begun—but that memory was already fading rapidly. This was what she had hoped for, imagined in her nights alone in this bed, and more. She felt unutterably close to him in this moment—and with that thought, she dug her fingers deeper into his back and arched up in tandem with his thrust, slamming them together at once, feeling him hitting her in a place deep inside that she hadn't even known she had, but that sent a deep, shuddering thrum through her body.
Anders groaned, pulsing another spark into her, and leaned over to nip the side of her neck. She was struggling underneath him now, trembling erratically, very close to completion. It was driving him wild to watch. The change in angle and the gentle bite brought her to the very brink. On a sudden impulse, he brought one hand between her legs where they were joined and sent a spark into her.
She flung her arms away from his back, but the motion seemed involuntary—and as the climax rocked her and brought him close to his own, he felt them slam back around him, nails digging—
A flash of scorching heat pulsed into his back from her fingertips, the sensation and the realization of what it was sending him over the edge. Another moan fell from his lips as he released in her, pushing her into her mattress, grabbing her shoulders almost roughly. As they rode it out together, he let his fingers trail up her neck and settle in her hair once again, cradling her head as he buried his own in the sensitive spot where her neck and left shoulder joined.
At some point they both realized that they'd better get themselves dressed and presentable, though they did not really want to separate. He kissed her again, and she hugged him in return. "That was wonderful," she praised, eyes alight.
"Yes... it was," he agreed, not just to please her, but because it was true. He wouldn't have expected it, but that was actually the best he'd ever had, he realized in wonder, holding her as he helped her into her clothes. She chuckled in mild embarrassment as the inside of her smalls instantly became slick with their combined juices... and a thought occurred to him. I could get her with child now that our relationship is at this stage. I might already have. I highly doubt her mother takes the herbal potion at her age, so it won't be around the house, and it's winter, so I cannot get the ingredients. He pulled his robe back on, thinking, finally resolving that he would ask her bluntly about her cycle next time—he was a Healer and did not mind the topic—and base their decisions on that while the ground remained cold and devoid of living herbs. And if it's too late already, then so be it, he thought. That was scary and intimidating, but... the Hawkes wouldn't turn him out. If anything, he thought, they would make me stay.
For the first time in his life, he didn't mind the thought of being made to stay.
Notes: She's actually not—yet—but no, the rhythm method is not nearly sufficient, and he knows that as a Healer. This is willful self-delusion, combined with not really minding the idea.
I didn't want any of Anders' dalliances to occur after he met Hawke in this AU, because of everything that has happened (and will happen). My vision for this AU is that his priority in future escapes will be to get back to Lothering, not to snag hookups, and he will be so devastated at what he finds in Lothering when he finally gets there that he couldn't possibly do that then. He will have a relationship with Karl, but that's different; that's meaningful, and he is locked up in the Circle when it happens, not free to look for Caitlyn—but it will be fraught enough in its own right.
