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 Anders: When I thought about Kristoff and his widow, I remembered how carefully the Warden delivered the news to her when we returned to the Vigil. I was tired of marching and wanted my bunk, or any bunk with a warm friend. We weren't even sure if we should have let Aura see Justice without his new helm. He'd seemed more... human after he spoke with her, whether he admired her for something he remembered her doing, or he felt some of Kristoff's affection.
Do you remember her and Kristoff anymore, Justice? A flash of a younger Aura standing in an unfamiliar bedroom while Kristoff embraced her, Then came more visions of a different Joining than I remembered with a huge and imposing bearded man in bright armor, Kristoff's fighting darkspawn and dying in the Blackmarsh. Then another vision of Nathaniel, myself, and Attryne when we met Aura. A few more visions of fighting and Vigil's Keep, and then me with a smirk on my face and a remembered annoyance that was all too familiar to me now. Then such pain that it was like I'd put my head into molten lead.
I didn't quite pass out, I was only coherent enough to realize I was in shock. Nothing more, empty echoes instead of thought.
“Anders! Anders!” came from a voice touching sweet and safe places in me.
Her voice made me want to smile, but that was too much effort. Still my head turned towards Aldera Hawke.
“
What?” I spoke.
I could hear that something in her voice, but Aldera Hawke was safe. Facing her now, I could see her well enough in the dim blue light.
“Anders, what was that?” Aldera Hawke asked, peering at my face.
I could listen to her voice for a long time.
“
We remembered lost things,” I heard myself say, much as I had in the Fade my last time there.
“And yes, he does remember some of Aura now,” “Justice?” Aldera Hawke asked.
We nodded.
“I see that we have a visitor this night,” Merrill said, re-igniting the fire pit. “Should I make him some tea? Do spirits like honey in their tea?”
Nothing in that required our response, so we only continued to look at Aldera Hawke as I wanted. I was allowed to make a smile.
“He was talking about his time with the Grey Wardens and when he and Justice were separate,” Aldera Hawke said while peering at us.
Merrill looked more interested, saying, “The spirit was present but separate and outside his Fade for extended periods? Others could see him, Hawke?”
“We didn't talk that long, but I think there was another host, and the others in their group knew Justice then,” Aldera Hawke reported as we rested.
“I wonder what it is that caused this spirit remain here?” Merrill said carefully.
“
I was trapped outside the Fade by the so-called Baroness. I could do other than inspire trapped people in the Fade, and directly fight Darkspawn and injustice,” we said.
Something he said caught my attention, but the thought flitted away before I could do more than frown. I shook my head, and tried to focus.
“Spirits do hunger for the mortal world too,” Merrill said smugly.
“
It was not my intent to come here or to remain,” came from my lips.
“I could inspire more there in dreams than here. Trapped here without the ability to act would be... bad.” “But how do you know this, spirit?” Merrill asked firmly, while Aldera Hawke smirked briefly.
“
I could not return when I left Kristoff. I would have been impotent unless there was one more aware present, whether spirit healer or warrior,” we answered cautiously.
Aldera Hawke asked, “What does bad mean then?”
Then I felt something new from Justice: fear, or almost that.
“
Bad would be madness, to see injustice around me and be unable to affect it. Howling anger without end, to be able to do nothing. There'd be nothing of justice in that. I would become what I fight,” Justice said flatly.
Finally my voice was my own again, “That is very bad.”
“That might well explain why they hunted you more than Hawke's family, even if it was unwise not to warn you if that was true,” Merrill said thoughtfully.
Right then pulling Hawke closer to me was more important.
She leaned back and brushed my cheek, “Are you all right?”
Looking into her eyes revealed less, as the light around us was only from the campfire again. Still I concentrated on her as I admitted, “Yes, the memories were the problem, causing pain. But I do remember a few images of Kristoff's life now, too.”
Merrill asked sharply, “Do you remember it as it was your own memory?”
I shook my head, “No, this was not much more real than any Fade dream, despite the pain. Some things were from when he was fighting alongside the rest of us around Amaranthine.”
“So these were more like Fade memories,” Merrill said thoughtfully.
Not that sure, I added, “I don't remember dreams, though I may still dream. Sometimes I feel as drained as after a nightmare, but I still don't remember anything at all. It's worse in the Deep Roads.”
“Seeing as how you Circle mages bind and form the spirits when they leave the Fade into benevolent or dark, your binding must be the problem,” Merrill said smugly.
Feeling myself snarl, I immediately objected, “I am not a Circle mage!”
“Don't be naive, of course you are. While your teaching has odd gaps and no depth beyond bans for subjects they don't approve of, you do have a wider knowledge than most who are not Keepers,” Merrill chided. “And you can be sure a few of my people escaped the Circle over the centuries and passed some Circle theory on to us.”
I started to sputter more protests, but Hawke patted my arm and said, “You may hate their politics and appeasement, but you agree on using magic as a tool and not power as an end in itself. Not like what we've heard about Tevinter where it was for power and cruelty, I guess Fenris never noticed that difference. You want to make things better, even if you sharply disagree on how mages should live.”
Frowning, I wanted to say I was proud of being an apostate.
Merrill piped up with a question, “How many mages have been your teachers? I have really had only two. And if I learned a great depth from their teachings, they could not always teach what I needed to learn. Most who are not Keeper trained are like that, with few teachers and little choice of what to study. Or they must discover everything on their own, with difficulty.”
Begrudgingly I admitted, “I had more than a half dozen who were influential.”
The dawn was brightening the horizon even as Merrill said cheerfully, “I'm sure you had a wealth of knowledge there. I can't imagine an entire room of books on magic.”
I still suspected there may be a reference somewhere, in restricted or hidden shelves that might help us, as even Ferelden's tower at Kinloch Hold had rooms and rooms worth of tomes. Someone had to have joined with a spirit before and not become a slavering killer.
“What I'm wondering about is that Justice wasn't angry just now,” Hawke mused. “He's usually more... violent when he's present, isn't he?”
“It has been so few times that he manifests like that when violence isn't immanent...” I said with a shrug, remembering how he had appeared when Hawke and Bethany first found me. “I try to keep him contained. He's too violent, like when we almost killed the girl...”
A hum came from Merrill and I had to stop and flush.
Looking worried, Hawke asked, “That was twice since we left Kirkwall that he's been present, right? Why the change? Because of what happened at the... Chantry? The distance from that black place or just distance from the Chantry?”
“Or maybe that his control is lesser now, or the spirit's is greater?” Merril wondered, to my dismay.
“Justice is always present, always judging everyone, including me,” I had to say, feeling frustrated.
Saying a soft, “Oh,” Hawke flushed and then paled, her shoulders dropping.
Reaching for her, I ran my thumb back along her jaw and then my fingers into her hair, “No, my dearest Hawke. So many comments are for what I do, he rarely has anything to say about you anymore, not that I would listen.”
Turning her face to me, she leaned closer for a quick kiss that wasn't that quick at all.
“Perhaps you should save that for after our travel for the day,” Merrill said with a tiny smile.
Hawke pulled back, and looked like she'd made a decision, “We need to get further from both Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Some place where the Chantry and Templars have already lost strength. And Maker help us, where there are enough Darkspawn or Blight damage lingering to keep priorities off a single apostate. Tevinter might have more knowledge, but I eliminated too many slavers to be very welcome there.” She looked nauseous and added, “I think I'd go berserk if I had to deal with slaves and slave owners. Fenris said enough to make me very sure of that.”
“I cannot hide away from the war I started,” I told them without intention. Not that I disagreed, there would be much fighting, I hoped, so that more could be free, and not just a few like me.
“There will be no shortage of places that will need help,” Hawke said grimly. “We need time and distance for them to lose focus on finding us. And whether you like it or not, we need to see if enough other mages and non-mages will stand up too. We can't do it alone. Andraste was not enough to end the Imperium, only weaken it. If they won't... I don't know what it will take.”
Justice was silent, but not pleased.
We packed up our camp and set out again, deciding to head west towards the Planasene Forest and Nevarre. Seeking lower elevations, travel was a little easier as the day passed. Merrill and the mabari hunted or gathered food along the way, a necessity I regretted as I was eating more than half of the food we used each day.
After another of Merrill's oddly flavored dinners, we settled by a small campfire. Hawke had been quiet most of the day, not exactly brooding but quiet.
She did some type of practice exercise moving on and around a tree at dusk. With some plainer daggers than her usual, of even a few days ago. Merrill watched too, though the dog tried to set his huge head on my knee. I didn't need
dog drool that badly.
Actually, I didn't need any dog drool at all, no matter how silky the fur by his ears was.
Sweating and panting when she stopped at full dark, Hawke dropped down to the ground next to me with a frown visible in the dim light of my staff.
Touching her arm, I asked, “Let me help?”
She had only a half-smile when she said, “You're the problem right now.”
I knew it was irrational with all we'd been through, but still I had a pang of worry.
Reaching to grasp my hand on her arm, she said, “It sucks, but we're going to have to change your appearance at least for a while. And after all that effort to upgrade your armor, too.”
Oh, Maker. I'd spend so long collecting the feathers for my pauldrons, something uniquely mine that I'd always have with me. I'd even fancied each feather was for one mage I'd helped escape the Templars, and the color for the ones I couldn't... a permanent reminder.
I didn't need light to see how different Hawke's armor looked already. Merrill had somehow been completely unnoticed outside the Alienage as a mage.
“I never kept any spare robes like that,” I had to admit. I'd sold or thrown away my furred clothing when I decided irrevocably that I had to act. I had been surprised how much easier it had been to be unnoticed when alone in the darker fabrics, something neither Varric nor Isabel had done much. Hawke favored darker clothing before she'd gotten the Champion armor.
“I wish now that I could have bought you something else, as you need as much protection as we can scrounge,” Hawke said ruefully.
“What do we have?” I asked, still wondering what we could do.
Merrill mused, “I suppose we could make a new coat for you as a start, from whatever materials we have. Maybe some dyes for that, or even to change your hair color?”
“Uh,” Hawke croaked, sounding very bad. “I have an idea to disguise us, at least.”
Taking a deeper breath, she said more normally, “We do need to change our hair and the colors of your robes, Anders. I packed a set of robes I found a while back, with some protective magic. One that I kept in case I ever needed a disguise, a disguise where little speech is expected for one of the two...”
Aldera looked me straight in the eye to say, “The robes of a Chanter, who'd be accompanied by their guard-speaker while on pilgrimage.”
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A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has 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.
