Chapter Text
Saarebas followed the others, head down. They were tense, pulled tight, but with every step they came farther and farther from the only solution they knew. They were afraid.
“Are you well?” The voice came from somewhere around Saarebas' elbow. It was Qunlat, heavily Tevinter-accented, but still Qunlat. The elf had fallen back to walk beside them, looking up at them with something close to concern.
“I… no. I am not safe. None of you are safe around me.”
“I am well acquainted with the dangers of mages. I can look after myself.”
“…Good.” It hurt to talk so much. Even with the stitches loosened by the control rod's destruction, they still pulled constantly at the tender flesh of Saarebas' lips.
“What are you two talking about?” Trade, too fast to follow, from the dark-haired one the others had called Hawke.
“They are …concerned. Normally I would let you do this, but you can’t speak Qunlat.”
“Thank you, Fenris.”
"Really?” That was the other mage now, the tall blond one. “You don't agree with this barbarism?"
“No. And that’s all I have to say to you.” The elf- Fenris- turned back to Saarebas. “You can trust Hawke.”
“And the other?”
Fenris just snorted.
As they went back through the tunnels, Fenris relayed the plan to them. Hawke would lie to the chantry sister, tell her Saarebas had died. Saarebas will stay with the other mage, called Anders or something like it, for now. It frightened them, the idea of being away from Hawke and Fenris, but that didn’t matter. They went where they were guided, and they did what they were told. If noone would bind them, perhaps they could bind themself.
“Hawke will come by tomorrow. You don’t need to be afraid.” They didn’t understand the words, but Anders’ voice was gentle in a way they hadn’t heard since their Tamarassan. The two of them walked through filthy cramped tunnels. The bas huddled in the tunnels greeted them. Two unbound mages walked among them, but they didn’t seem afraid. If Saarebas could have asked, they would have. Anders greeted the people back, stopping to speak with them. Their eyes alwats inevitably turned to Saarebas, and Saarebas folded in and tried to blend to the dank sides of the tunnels until the prying eyes turned away. eventually, one side of the tunnels fell away, to reveal the open sky and a view of Kirkwall's harbour. The air coming off the harbour was cleaner and fresher than the air in the tunnels, even with the faint undertones of rotting fish. Saarebas craned their head out of their collar, sniffing at the breeze and gazing at the dark blue sky. They found beauty whereever they could, little things to hold close in their mind. They were broken from their reverie by a gentle tug at their hand. They flinched, and quickly followed Anders up a flight of stairs, cursing themself for not being fast enough to follow. The door at the top of the stairs had a lit lantern beside it, and the rooms beyond it were wider, better lit, and slightly cleaner than the rest of the tunnels. Anders guided them behind a partition, away from prying eyes.
“Sit.”
Gentle hands, long fingered and calloused, wrapped around one of Saarebas’ wrists. With a burst of fire so sharp and controlled Saarebas barely recognized it as magic, Anders removed their cuffs. Saarebas raised their suddenly lightened wrists, looking at them and swiveling them. For almost 10 years, the cuffs had only been off for long enough to swap them out for larger ones, or to treat infected wounds. Their wrists were thinner than they had expected, and ringed with heavy scar tissue where the cuffs had been. Anders' hands were around Saarebas' wrists again, gently lowering their hands to their lap. He hooked his fingers under their collar, and paused. Saarebas nodded and leaned forwards to let Anders lift it over their head. As it came over their head, they suddenly felt small and exposed. They pulled their knees to their chest and quivered.
“Shhhhh…” A hand ran over their head, rubbing briefly over the stubs of their horns before unlacing the straps of their mask. Saarebas pushed into Anders' hand, wanting to do anything to keep being touched so gently. Anders guided them to lie on their back, one hand holding their head in place.
“Hold still.” Even if Saarebas couldn’t understand the words, they understood the commanding tone. They held their head as still as they could as Anders cut the stitches in their mouth, and gently pulled the thread free. Magic surged over their lips, not harmful but cool and soothing. They raised shaking hands to their lips, feeling nothing but old scars.
“How…” They grabbed Anders and pulled the other mage close, burying their face in his strange musty garments. They wanted to cry, wanted to scream and laugh and run, but they felt paralyzed. Anders hugged them back, gently. The weight and warmth of another body was an unfamiliar feeling, but welcome. Saarebas nuzzled into Anders’ shoulder, and felt one of his hands go up to cradle their head, stroking their close-cropped hair. If it was up to Saarebas, they would have stayed like that for hours, regardless of practicality.
“Here.” Anders draped blankets over their shoulders, wrapping them tightly. Saarebas curled into a ball, tucking their knees to their chest. The blankets gave back a little of the weight they had lost with their collar, and it was easier to breathe. One hand found the talisman still around their neck, running over its familiar shape. Something nudged against their shoulder, and they looked around to see anders holding a bowl. They smelled the steam wafting off it, and without thinking their hands reached out for it. Anders passed it to them and ran a hand over their head in that way that made them feel warm and settled. The soup was real, everything that went into it boiled down into a thick jelly. When Saarebas raised the bowl to their mouth, they had to open their mouth wide just to eat, and just that and the weight of it on their tongue brought tears to their eyes. Before, they had been fed thin gruel, siphoned into their mouth through a thin tube. Compared to that, this simple stew was undescribable. They managed to finish half of it before their stomach began to protest. Once Anders had taken the bowl, it was easy enough to let the exhaustion they had been holding at bay overwhelm them.
When Saarebas woke up, they lay still for a while. As long as they didn't move, they could keep the world and their terrifying lack of bonds at bay. There was noone there to guide them, to hold them back, to protect others and they were afraid of it. Besides, the small cot they were curled up on was surprisingly comfortable, and they didn't want to move. They listened to the noises around them, footsteps and conversations carried on in unfamiliar language. As they listened, they managed to pick out Anders' voice, gentle and commanding and- they soon realized- moving closer to their bed. Saarebas flinched, but pushed themself out from under the blankets and sat up.
"Good morning." Anders smiled, and handed Saarebas another bowl. It was porridge this time, thick and warm. As they ate, Anders put a hand in Saarebas' back, and rubbed in slow gentle circles. Saarebas sighed. They hadn't imagined last night, which was good. They liked the food and they liked being touched, but they didn't know what it meant, to be touched and fed like a person. They licked the last dregs of porridge out of their bowl, and took Anders' hand. Anders smiled at them, and lead them out into the main room. It was just as busy as it had been last night, and they could feel eyes on them. Saarebas found a crate to perch on, knees drawn up their chest, and watched Anders. Anders was talking to another bas, a human holding their arm close to their chest. Saarebas watched, more for lack of anything else to do, as Anders guided the human to one of the cots and raised their arm. The human's arm was braceleted in dark bruises and bent at a strange, painful angle. Anders held the arm with the firm gentleness of a practiced healer, pushing the bone back into place before the injured human had any time to react. Almost immediately, light welled up between his fingers and spread out over the arm. Bruises retreated, and the arm restraightened. As the human raised their arm, twisting it and clenching their fingers, Saarebas felt their mouth drop open. They had felt it last night, but seeing it was completely different. Saarebas stood up and, as quietly as they could, moved to a better vantage point where thy could watch every movement Of Anders' hands.