The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.
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-- The Free Marches - Vimmark Mountains Hawke: Maker, I'd kind of hoped for more time before broaching this idea to Anders, but this was the time if it ever could be. Both of the mages turned towards me, even if the nuances in their expressions weren't visible in the darkness.
Telling Anders my plan was hard. As worried as I was about telling him, it was an unexpected ploy, something Sebastian or Cullen would never think he could do. They knew us best of all the people wanting our hides. At least I hoped so, I refused to worry that Bethany or Aveline could be made to talk.
After I'd told him, the way Anders stiffened scared me so much my throat hurt. I didn't really know which part of him hated it the most, the merciless Templar killer, the tireless one who fought for all mages' freedom, or the kind man imprisoned far too often in a tower. I realized I was watching for the light that came before Justice's wrath exploded with a little fear.
A tiny, little sound came from my throat, and I realized I'd never been afraid of Justice before, but now I wasn't as sure of anything. I hoped he hadn't heard me, because I couldn't know if the spirit would use any hesitation against me.
It still was a good idea, their records of minor sisters and brothers would have to be lost and incomplete now, like in Ferelden years ago. I almost hated my practical side that that horror might help us like with our needs, and I put my arms around myself, digging my fingernails in to keep me still.
“Hence those books you brought along,” Anders said in a dry voice, empty of feeling.
I was still waiting for his spirit to appear, and muttered an agreement. Merrill hummed, but didn't seem to have an opinion.
His anger was no surprise, though only his eyes shifted blue briefly when he demanded with gritted teeth to start, “And do you expect me to wear those robes? To even
pretend they own me, that they're right? To speak their words that mages should be feared and hounded? That families like yours should be destroyed? That they call the Maker's gift a curse? That
Templars do the Maker's work?
Are you insane?”
I wanted to close my eyes and weep at his charges but I answered, “Not unless both of you thought you could. But it would be hard if I was the chanter, as you'd have to do part of the talking for me too and sound like you meant it. Chanters or sisters sometimes sound like nutters, or just be quiet.” I had to swallow and admit, “I guess you can't. I just wanted some disguise that filled our other needs, one that would never be suspected by Sebastian or the Knight-Captain.”
“No, I'd far rather burn them all to ash,” he growled. “With their false assurances of protection and benevolence, mages have no safety under Chantry rule.”
Justice had not truly manifested, still I had no doubt that the plan was dead. That pilgrim disguise really had been what I considered my best idea for the two of us as fugitives, as the Chanters almost always had someone with them to interpret and no one thought anything of a chanter being quiet or saying things that were out of context. He probably knew more of the Chant than me already. Pilgrims often traveled the sparser lands, all we'd need is a plausible quest like some holy sword or tome. It really was the best disguise I could think of outside his suddenly learning to change form.
I realized I was rocking, and made myself stop.
“Hawke?” Merrill asked quietly, touching my shoulder.
Looking up from my knees, I forced a smile for my friend. “Yeah, what?” When she just looked at me, I had to say, “That's it, that was the best idea I've had so far. Combining a reason to travel and with being unfamiliar with the area and lack of caravan. One of us could be mostly silent, a complete change in looks. No one who knows us would expect it of Anders, and the robe has some magical protection that he'd need. Finding a miracle wouldn't be bad either if there were any. So many people have seen us over the years... all I wanted was a few months to see if we can find someone who might have some way to calm Justice. We need a few months for a time to heal a little.”
An arm slid around my shoulders, heavy and warm. Anders' eyes were brown and sad, “Only if you were on the run with someone else, my dear.”
“It was a rogue solution,” I agreed. Leaning against him as I sat, I said to them both, “I don't really mind Justice that much, only what he does to you, it isn't fair. There are so many who don't ever get justice, not just the mages. The victims shouldn't have to wait until they meet the Maker for someone to care what happens to them.”
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-- Anders: There was no way I... no, we could follow her plan, to even pretend that they owned me or were correct. Maybe if she'd fled with someone more sane than me. Maybe like what I'd been in Amaranthine, joking with the others when I wasn't killing smugglers or darkspawn, then it would have been a lark, fooling the Templars. I was safe enough there under the Warden's wing from asses like Ser Rylock.
In Ferelden the Circle and Templars had been so weakened by the Blight's destruction. Their priorities had shifted a bit more to service and pragmatism at least for a while. It was almost too bad the other lands had not been affected by the Blight, that they could even deny now how close it had been. They still had too much luxury to rant on the evils of magic instead of the danger of darkspawn, real threats. The Warden Commander and her second used some quote about how the Blight brought people together a lot, but they were right.
But when Hawke rambled about the other people who deserved justice, I felt a rumble from the spirit. I wanted to smile into her hair, she was a little crazy too, without even a spirit goading her.
Then I felt a surge of rage I didn't expect just then, my skin itching with Fade energy. Itching and then overflowing. My muscles spasmed and then cramped as I wanted to keep control of my own body, only holding on to Dera so I didn't move. There were no enemies here I kept telling him, but images of Hawke killed like I'd nearly killed Ella filled my brain.
No! Not that! Not even howling at Justice this time, we fought for control for an eternity as mana built into a storm of energy I refused to use, refused to move, locking every muscle, refused to even focus beyond holding it inside me.
I couldn't see and was getting dizzy, when something shifted and the spirit yielded finally. All I could do was pant and then take deep breaths as my vision returned and my heart raced. I felt lighter when I realized Hawke was still leaning against me, not trying to break free of me.
Thanking the Maker, I allowed myself a chaste kiss on her cheek before I sat back so we were again barely touching.
“Anders?” she asked me quietly.
I didn't want to tell her, I really, really didn't want to tell her what just happened. I didn't think I could stand it if she feared me. So I looked at the ground. It had felt like we'd healed, just a little since leaving Kirkwall. That Justice was calmer now after what we'd done there.
But I wanted to give her that promise of truth she hadn't demanded, to get it right this time.
Mumbling, I forced myself to say, “He tried to take control and he was infuriated...” Taking another breath, I added, “You, not Merrill.”
Hawke cupping my cheek, surprising me almost as much as her saying, “Thank you.”
Looking up at her after nuzzling into her touch, I saw she had a weak smile on her face. I had to smile too and take a breath in relief, though I wanted to hold her tight and was afraid to now. I tried to remember what we'd been talking about before. Oh, disguises and pilgrims.
“I don't think that would work with Merrill or Paws along, either,” I suggested. “Maybe you can use that to scout before we enter a city or something like arranging for passage?”
Hawke shook her head. “I'm not sure we'll have enough to book passage, depending on bribes we'll need. I sold some things to that collector in the sewers but hoped to sell others who demand functional more than odd. Some of them we left behind.”
“Running, or at least outmarching armored asses works. I usually traded passage with my healing skills, even if I used little or no magic,” I could say. “Sailors routinely have many injuries, aside from pirate attacks. That should help.”
“The problem will be to find a ship that won't just drop us overboard after taking our money,” Hawke said, looking grim. “We had so much trouble leaving Ferelden.”
“It might be quite funny if some of those in Kirkwall are now refugees themselves,” I could say with a small smile. “They looked down on Fereldans often enough.”
Looking off towards the west, Hawke said, “I guess we'll have to make for Cumberland, and decide there if we can find some smuggler's ship. I don't want to try to pass through Orlais itself. The Chantry is stronger there, and that Sister Nightingale knows our faces. She had to be from Orlais, and she won't be throwing us a feast if she finds us.”
I was just glad Hawke sounded more normal again.
Turning to the north briefly. Merrill spoke a sad phrase towards Sundermount,
“El aravelen him nehnir dar'melana abelas halamen.” Hawke hugged her, I thought to both of their surprises, with Hawke saying, “I wish your clan still believed in you.”
“I still listen to the winds and speak to the birds as Marethari taught me. The clan I was First to has no Keeper and no halla now. Are they even Elvhen anymore? Holding to their pride on that mountain, they have less of a future than those in the cities who still hold to their vhenadahl, to their hahren, and to each other,” she said sadly. “I cannot make them trust me, anymore than a human like Bethany can make Templars trust her.”
I was about to challenge her choices, but Hawke gave me a quick glare before asking the elf, “What usually happens to clans without a Keeper?”
“I do not know what will happen, as usually there is a First and perhaps another elder in case of disaster. Meeting another clan might help as well, but they would have to travel alone without the guidance of their halla or Keeper.” She paused to look at Hawke, almost pleading.
Bigpaws nosed Merrill, who said to the hound sadly, “Yes, they could trust wise souls like you, but they would confuse you with the Dread Wolf.”
Leap or die, we weren't the only ones facing it.
Merrill spoke again while petting the mabari. “The Keeper had not prepared them for even the possibility of such great change. I am not a change they can accept, but denying the Dread Wolf does not keep him away. Asha'bellanar did not warn them of change, but it came anyway on little mouse feet. I fear for them. Perhaps it would have been more kind if you hadn't taken the blame, Hawke, I would not have them stay on that mountain where they can only dwindle.”
“Maybe we can look for another clan. Do you know where we might find one?” Dera asked carefully.
Shaking her head, Merrill admitted, “I only knew places where two of the clans might roam, all else is fog now.”
“We can look,” I agreed. “We have no real destination now, only away for a time.”
Cocking her head with a smile, Hawke asked, “The Dales then? At least for a stop, as I don't think we know anyone who might be there and we'll just be hated shemlen for a while, a bit milder than the usual dislike we've gathered.”
I didn't feel any objection from Justice, even if I wasn't sure he'd gotten free yet. When we set out pallets for sleep, I wasn't sure what to say to Hawke yet tonight.
Distracting myself, I re-wrapped and sorted the bandaging cloth we'd cut up. A few fabrics I recognized now from color or texture. One had been one of Dera's few dresses for some special occasion, and I remembered how my calloused fingers caught on the soft fabric then. Those strips I set aside, not that I had any idea what to do with them.
After I fussed with the bandages for a time, Dera said softly, “Anders.”
I looked up, and saw Merrill must have stepped away. Paws wasn't nearly as polite, and had his head on Dera's foot, watching me suspiciously.
“Come on, Anders,” she said with a tired smile. “We need to sleep.”
“But he could...” I started. “I don't know what got up his ass this time. I'm afraid to sleep, I'd rather stay awake and keep you close.”
Taking my hand to pull me closer, Hawke whispered, “Who isn't worried? But I cannot go back to those years after the Deep Roads. One step at a time, until we find answers we can live with for you and the other mages.”
Moving closer for a kiss, I felt the faintest of rumbles from Justice, and I was so relieved they weren't enraged rumbles. Soon we curled up together with her breath warming my skin, and I thanked the Maker for another day.
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A/N: Thanks to BronxWench for her translation. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
