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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-- near Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast Anders: Varric took a swig from his flask, and said quietly, “Blondie, you have somehow nearly managed to match your idiocy from yesterday. Good work.” His sarcasm dripped.
Fenris began to clean his blade, his contempt even more palpable.
Merrill frowned and wouldn't meet my eyes as she prepared a cooking fire.
I'd almost felt like I'd been in iron shackles all afternoon, with four disapproving Templars who would be impossible to trick and escape from
Fenris looked me in the eye when I started to speak and snarled, “Don't bother.”
They did not even look at me when I circled the half-settled camp. I kept looking off towards where Hawke had disappeared, and realized her dog had gone too.
I could walk away in the other direction with the way they were deliberately ignoring me. I could feel Justice's wordless approval of this.
Looking again after where she'd gone, the sounds of her movement through the brush had ended some time ago. Suddenly worried at that silence, I lit a ball of fire and followed after her, using my staff for balance in the dark.
Not having that much in the way of tracking skills, I wasn't sure if I even was going in the right direction after I lost sight of the camp. The trees were thinning and ground got rockier. I looked around and realized I had no idea where I was, nor where Hawke was.
I didn't want
those to be my last words to her, I wanted so much more until the damn Calling pulled me down. I had years left, but that hung over me some quiet days as much as the Circle and Templars.
Justice didn't seem bothered by that though, his first host had had far less time as a warden.
I'd almost have to trip over her to find her in this wilderness. I'd slept with her close to me for years, even if we hadn't done any more than hold each other many times.
It felt like it was getting late, and all I could think of was lighting a column of flame and hope that it was someone friendly that found me. That would be too stupid, as much as I was tempted.
Help me find her, Justice! She's been a target of the Templars all her life, and we've wronged her, too. I demanded into the silence of my mind. I'd lost so many spells after we merged, spells and skills I remembered wielding against the Architect, but the new ones I learned after Justice were not the same. There was a silence, but nothing happened after my demand.
Getting my bearing again from the blurry moon, I continued on, praying the Maker would pity me and I'd find her, despite...
After what seemed like forever I heard a muffled whuff behind me. Turning that way carefully, I found her not that many steps in that direction, clutching her mabari in her sleep again.
One always faithful to her, I thought sadly.
I knelt at her back and carefully rubbed her shoulders. She uncurled after a bit and hummed sleepily. Kissing along her shoulder, I finally asked quietly, “Hawke?” After no reaction, I leaned closer and asked, “Aldera?”
As she stiffened a bit, I resumed my work on her shoulders until she sat up with a shudder. There was a rock in my stomach as she turned to face me with her war dog at her back, not me.
We looked at each other in the dim light of my staff, in silence.
In a raspy voice she asked, “What do you want from me? I don't know anymore. I thought I knew you. I even thought I might be able to forgive you for that horror, but I can't go on like this.”
Even though I'd said that so many times in the years after the Qun battle, it hurt to hear her say it now.
I wanted to pull her close and sink into her, I wanted to be by her side for the rest of her days, I wanted to see her smile like she used to, and I wanted her family, our family, every family with a mage, to be free of what we'd endured, being hunted and hated.
Taking her hands, I admitted, tossing sworn secrets to the winds, “I want everything for us, but what chance of happiness did we have between the Templars and the Chantry hunting me as an apostate or abomination, and my taint as a Warden? We carry taint not just from any darkspawn, but the Archdemon. I... I have maybe twenty years at most left before my Calling into the Deep Roads and few Wardens can have children. An extra prize for feeling when darkspawn are near. Then I will have to go down into that darkness and crushing weight for one last battle, taking as many of them as I can with me when I go. We hear the darkspawn after our Joining, and many do not survive that cup. I was lucky that only one did at my ceremony, but it's often more. The senior Wardens could hear the Archdemon's call to the darkspawn during the Blight, even if I missed that, thank the Maker. That even assumes I can stay free of the Templars and Chantry. Apostate mage, abomination, darkspawn-tainted, there's so little left of Anders to give you, my dear.”
“I only ever wanted your heart and trust,” Dera said, cupping my cheek sadly. “Did I
ever have it?”
Clasping her hand on my face as I closed my eyes, kissing her palm and wrist. That
had to be enough as she knelt in front of me. I just wanted to hold her close and breathe her scent, the clean, fresh breeze of her own self. I thought back to hundreds of skirmishes, conversations, and sex in tender love and urgent lust. She'd suddenly appear at my back when I needed help in combat, helped with my clinic, and helped me keep my sanity this many years. But her hand dropped as I tried to find the words.
I had to open my eyes and say, “I've trusted you with my life and soul for years. I want to protect you from the darkness in me, from my seeking justice for mages. I'd gotten too famous in Amaranthine and once I couldn't pretend the Circles would get better on their own, I had to act despite the cost. You are the brightest light in my life. I wanted you safe from the consequences of my actions.”
“Look how well that worked out,” Hawke said with a little bitterness. “And I felt sorry for Orsino, caught between Meredith and you. It's far too late now, you may win the war, but you've lost the battle for Kirkwall and its Circle mages. Orsino is as much a victim of that blast as Elthina. What do you think a king would do with general who did that?”
“There's no king there,” I objected for her question.
“No, and there never has been,” Dera said with irritation. “You know that wasn't my meaning. They've never had anything like the Banns or Landsmeet where even the great Teyrns had to bow to pressure from below. All there's been is revolts from the oppressed but precious little real change. You need something better or some new asshole will grab the power. Who are the asses left in Kirkwall, who will replace Meredith with the approval of far too many who saw their homes and family burn from what you did?”
“The next Knight-Commander will have to be better than her!” I told with our ire rising.
Taking my hands with a brief caress, she asked, “Didn't you think any Viscount had to be better than the last one? But having no one was worse. I read a lot of those histories while you copied out your manifestos. Think, you're a healer, how long would she have lived with that much lyrium poisoning? I wonder what happened to the smith, as Varric got odd very quickly on only a fragment of that idol and dwarves are resistant to magic, right?”
It felt so good to be talking with her like this again, looking ahead, and I squeezed her hands tightly like a lifeline, saying, “Maybe it was Bartrand, we could ask Varric if that's possible, or if he could track it down now that we know where it ended up. We don't know how much of the idol was used for that sword.”
Suddenly I had to laugh at an idea and pull her over into my lap, thankful she let me.
“I've missed your laugh, Anders,” Dera said, leaning back against me.
“Just remembered that Meredith caused the largest outpouring of magic I've ever heard of, all by herself. She should have gotten locked up by the Templars, right? I'd have paid to see her made tranquil,” I had to say with a grin.
Wriggling closer with a chuckle, Dera reached up to run her fingers over my growing beard, waking less intellectual thoughts, Moving my legs so she slid lower in my lap, I grazed her neck with my lips.
“Anders...” she said breathlessly, turning towards me.
“Later, my Champion, truly,” I muttered into her already loose hair, reaching for the hooks under her leather armor as I felt her fingers reach through my robes to my chest.
Maybe Fade spirits never quite understood love, only its trappings, but I felt more whole like this, more like the mage who once was. Her giggles filled me and I chuckled and repeated tickling her until she couldn't laugh any more. Then we got more serious and intent until we collapsed in the middle of our discarded clothing and armor.
Brushing her nipples, I asked in as flat a voice as I could manage while smirking, “So what ideas do you have for our fugitive state?”
Choking, Dera wriggled and muttered, “Don't ask if you don't really want to know right now.”
That stopped me, “You do? What?”
Dera said without a smile while brushing my cheek, “Why do you think I wasn't paying attention this afternoon? I do have some things we'll have to do after we're alone. We'll need more than just new names and appearances, but also a plan and an escape plan at all times.”
I had to frown at this, as I'd been hunted before.
With a weak smile, Dera admitted, “I'm not at all sure if this is my birth name. Didn't you ever think it was strange that our names were in the order of Aldera, Bethany, and Carver? Actually, my mother usually dealt with other people when we moved around. Papa was always the 'unskilled' worker who took care of us, especially Bethany. How often have you changed everything when you escaped? You haven't even really changed clothing styles much since we met, just changed to black.”
“They always hunted me with my phylactery, so why bother?” I wondered.
“They told you they did, but was it true? You keep dressing the same way, that had to make it easier and not need any magic,” Dera said while patting my shoulder.
“But I'm comfortable dressing like this,” I protested.
Snorting, she traced fingers delicately along my chest and downward, asking, “Since when haven't you?”
Grabbing her wrist, I said with a half grin, “You know what I meant.”
“But it was such an opportunity!” she laughed. Her voice turning more serious, Dera added, “Not that I'm going to be comfortable either, I hate skirts and robes, but that will be less noticeable than armor, especially if we go into more settled areas.”
I started to make a joke, but pulled her closer and sighed as I asked, “What now? I can't stop trying to help my brother and sister mages.”
“Did I ever demand that, or even hinted at it? There are so many victims of injustice there, and I wanted to help them
all, not just the mages” Dera said with a grimmer voice as she sat up.
I could feel Justice reacting, but shoved him far down inside me. He'd had enough blood for a while.
“But it takes time for people like me to make change, without real rank or power. Rogues and jumped-up adventurers are easy to ignore, and Kirkwall's nobility made that very clear after we moved into Hightown. It was all 'Invest with me,' 'See my pretty son or daughter,' and 'Kill this monster.' Not that I was much more than a novelty or muscle to them. Being 'Champion' gave me no political power for change. I was a pretty totem, a statue to admire, not someone whose opinion counted for much.”
Taking a calming breath, Dera admitted, “Not that killing a leader really means I should have any power, else the Arishok would have been the next viscount. I thought I was just reaching the point where enough nobles owed me favors that I could make things change. I even had hopes for a few of the Templars, or even an appeal to the White Divine. This has to have been a problem elsewhere before, even if in public the Chantry is silent. Sebastian might have even helped, and there he had much more experience and pull than me.”
“I thought you were fence-sitting, like Elthina, despite all the mages you'd helped,” I cried in remembered pain. “I knew you cared, but you didn't speak out.”
“I did speak for Orsino and about a Circle mage, and it wasn't enough to help,” Hawke said sadly. “I had to evade attention for a while until I could make a decisive move. I didn't have anywhere near the political power to take the Knight-Commander on, they'd just appeal for a March on Kirkwall. She had to be removed from power, legally. But it was taking so long to make friends. I'm not that convincing, it seems.”
Things I hadn't really noticed clicked into place, all those missions, even for Templars and chantry who I didn't trust, even for Meredith. Sighing, I pointed out, “You were drifting into politics after all.”
“Kicking and screaming, I guess,” Hawke said with a flush I could see even in the dim light. “I didn't think assassinating Meredith would change anything, that would reenforce their dumber opinions. Even if it would have been almost quick and easy. I wasn't quite ready to die to stop her that way...” She swallowed loud enough that I could hear and she said in a tight voice, “I'm sorry, my love. I should have done it long before you'd gotten that desperate.”
“No, no, no...” was all I could say, holding her too tightly against me. That would have killed me too, my imagination painted what would have happened all too quickly. Her hanging, neck not broken so it was slow torture, her corpse being spurned and displayed, or worse she might have had just enough magic in her blood to be made a Tranquil example, pawn of asses like Aldrick, “Maker, no!”
Sighing, Hawke continued, “Moving Cullen into the top spot because he believed she was wrong would make him less militant in continuing her policies. He knew Bethany was apostate some time before the Deep Roads. Almost as important for the future as removing her in a kind of clean sweep.”
She didn't remind me this kind of transfer couldn't happen now.
“What about...” I protested.
“I liked her,” she said with a flash of anger in her voice. “She was a woman of great faith and some pragmatism, if not enough. She would have been a good leader for another place that didn't have repeated oppressions and revolts. She allowed herself to be ineffective in Kirkwall politics by letting the Templars run without check, refusing to support her entire flock, whether refugees, elves or mages. The Maker isn't just for Hightown. I asked her many times myself and was trying to get Sebastian convinced too. Can you honestly think the next Revered Mother will be more passive and peaceful than her or more militant?”
“They could not last that long in the Gallows Circle! Would you be as willing to wait if they'd taken Bethany?” I demanded with my anger.
Hawke stiffened in the dark, and after a moment admitted slowly, “No. I'd do my best to get her out and head for another kingdom, another name. They lose interest if you keep your head low. I don't know if I'm even worried about her passing a Harrowing, as Papa had passed his, it's her being trapped and a plaything for asses like Aldrick that haunted me. She always was the sweetest of our family, and that place and all the darkness and black stone would change her for the worse. She changed so much after her Joining, but she has more freedom with the Wardens.”
“Why didn't you tell me all this?” I asked, getting more pissed, “Nothing was improving, things were getting so much worse.”
Bigpaws whined almost the same instant that she took an unsteady breath, “I guess I was wrong. I thought all those favors and tasks earning goodwill and allies were obvious. You came along on almost all of them, I thought you knew. Even taking Sebastian to save a kidnapped girl or to stop the usual violent blood mages could remind him you weren't a slavering abomination, but mostly a healer and still very human. Any money was much less important than being an example of sanity, for both of us. Even making friends with that Qunari looking for those swords, might give us a payback someday.”
Constantly together, we still managed to work at cross purposes, so I shifted topics with a frown, “Did the Circle have your father's phylactery? Did you have a way to beat that?”
“As far as we knew, yes, they had it,” Dera said sadly, beginning to speak more slowly with a yawn. “I reckon there was enough blood mages an'... other problems we wasn't enough of a priority. I don't think we had to flee since I was little 'cause someone was looking for him. Usually from using magic after someone was hurt, or Bethany learnin'... control.”
I had to smile for an instant as her speech so rarely shifted like this when she was tired.
“They will be angry enough to contact Kinloch Hold,” I admitted, wondering if anyone friendly to me was now First Enchanter, or maybe my phylactery had been lost during the Blight. I hadn't even thought about it for years as Meredith knew where I lived since Hawke became Champion. And dead men didn't need to worry about it
Sidling closer, she repeated slowly, sounding sleepy again, “I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away, rather they don't catch us.”
She swayed as she said this, so I gave her a kiss and settled us down so we were spooning together under my coat. I still had a slight smile on my lips at her drowsy ferocity, “I will as well for you, my dear, even if I think more will hunt me. After all why would a Templar search as hard for you, my roguish one?”
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A/N: Thanks to several 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.
