Chapter Text
And His Word became all that might be:
Dream and idea, hope and fear,
Endless possibilities.Threnodies 5:1
Hawke picked up the basket and carefully opened the door to the hidden entrance just a crack to make sure no one was lingering outside. She didn't want all of the Undercity discovering the way into her basement, after all. The area was deserted. She locked the door behind her, hurrying towards the clinic. She was late. The clinic was crowded, but not as crowded as she’d sometimes seen it, and no one seemed to be bleeding excessively. Good. She could steal Anders away, make him eat a decent meal.
She found him in the back, lecturing a bored looking Isabela.
“Just don’t come running to me the next time you pick up one of these things.” He was warning her. He looked up and smiled when he saw Hawke walking towards him.
The pirate just scowled at him. “Isn’t that what magic is for?” She turned around and left, giving Hawke a lazy smile as she passed her.
Hawke raised a perfectly arched brow as she walked up to Anders “I really don’t want to know, do I?” she asked.
Anders shook his head. “You really don’t. Isabela seems to think the Maker made mages solely to cure her of whatever she’s picked up from her latest bed partner.”
“That’s our Izzy.” Said Hawke absently, looking around the clinic until she spotted the woman she’d been looking for. “Annalise!” she called. “I’m stealing your healer and feeding him. We’ll be in the back.”
Annalise nodded approvingly. “Good. Someone needs to.” Hawke turned towards the storage room basket in hand. Annalise gave Anders a suggestive look which he pointedly ignored. He caught up to Hawke, taking the basket from her hands.
“You’re late.” He commented. “I was getting worried.” It was ridiculous that he had worried. Ridiculous but inevitable.
“I know. I’m sorry. I had a good reason though. I was summoned to the Keep for a meeting with the Viscount. I hope you’re suitably impressed.” She cleared a space on the table he used to make his potions and poultices.
“Well aren’t you the important one?” He said looking her over. She was in her usual leather armor but it was a particularly beautiful set, a deep oxblood color with a tooled black vine design down the front, worn over a fine silk shirt of the same deep red. The color should have clashed with her flame colored hair, he thought looking at the thick fishtail braid that lay over one shoulder, but somehow it didn’t. “So what did he want?” He asked unpacking the basket. “Hawke, there’s enough food in here for a dozen people.” He said, as he pulled out what appeared to be a second roast chicken.
“Yes, well I know the way you give your food away. I figure if I bring enough perhaps at least some of it will make it into your stomach.” She grabbed an apple for herself and took a bite. “What was I saying?” she asked swallowing.
“The Viscount.” He prompted. He tore off a drumstick and bit into it, only realizing as he did so just how hungry he was. He sank into the chair. He hadn’t sat all morning he realized, stretching out his legs in front of him.
“Right.” She pulled over a wooden crate and sat cross legged on that. “He was actually just passing along a message from someone else.” She looked unaccountably pleased. “Guess who?” She demanded.
“I have no idea.” With Hawke it could have been anyone. With the Viscount’s involvement it was even more of a mystery.
“The Arishok.” She laughed, delighted at the stunned expression on his face. “I know! Isn’t it wonderful?” She took another bite of the apple.
Perhaps not the word he would have chosen. “Why on Thedas does the Arishok want to see you?”
“No idea. The Viscount doesn’t know either. But he asked for me by name. The Arishok knows my name!”
Anders wasn’t at all certain that was a good thing. “You haven’t had any encounters with the Qunari lately, have you?” he asked with a frown.
She shook her head. “Not for years. I’ve absolutely no idea what he could want. I was talking to Saemus about it. He doesn’t know either, and he has far more contact with the Qunari than I do.”
“Saemus?” He asked, not able to put a face to the name.
“Saemus Dumar. You remember, the Viscount’s son. Try some of the cheese. The shopkeeper swore it just arrived on a boat from Fereldan. I told him I didn’t want any of that stinky Orlesian stuff.” She pulled a piece off the loaf of bread she'd brought and passed that to him as well. “I was sure I was in some kind of trouble when Bran’s note arrived this morning, but even he was being nice to me.” She cut herself a piece of the cheese, and nibbled delicately before adding, “But I think that’s unrelated to the whole Arishok thing. I suspect he and Leandra are conspiring.”
He tore the second drumstick off the chicken. “That’s a frightening thought. What would those two have to conspire about.”
“Leandra’s trying to fix me up with Bran’s son. He’s about my age. She thinks she’s being very subtle about it.”
He frowned. “Fix you up?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Leandra’s decided that her latest mission in life is to find me a husband.” Her eyes were twinkling as if it were a fine joke.
Anders just stared at her. Hawke married. Married to some fine nobleman up in Hightown. He looked at her in her custom made leathers, thought of the food and seemingly endless supplies for the clinic she constantly brought him, with no expectation of repayment. Her mansion by the steps to the Keep. Of her being summoned to the Keep to meet with the Viscount. Her mother trying to arrange a suitable marriage. She was living in a world he could never be a part of. Or maybe he was living in one that she wouldn’t be a part of, not for long. He put down the chicken, suddenly not hungry at all, and sat there unaware of the frown on his face.
Hawke looked at him wondering why he didn’t find the idea as ridiculous as she did. He looked so worn out, she thought. Thinner and shabbier than ever. Still handsome, but lately there was a frantic look to his eyes that was making her worry. She reached out a hand and touched his face. “You look exhausted.” She said softly.
He pulled away. “Not all of us have luxurious beds in Hightown where we can sleep undisturbed every night.” He said sharply and winced even as the words left his mouth.
She pulled back her hand and just looked at him for a moment before getting to her feet. “That wasn’t especially kind of you.” she pointed out. It wasn’t the first time he had lashed out at her suddenly, for no apparent reason, and it had been happening more frequently of late. “Is there any particular reason? Or am I just conveniently in front of you? Are you done with this?” She asked and not waiting for an answer to either question wrapped up the chicken and put it back in the basket.
He didn’t know why he had said it. He came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Hawke. I’m taking my mood out on you. Things are getting worse. I had Templars practically on my doorstep last night.” Let her think that was his main concern. Maker knew it was one of them.
She quickly turned around to face him. “Were they hunting you?” she asked, her irritation immediately forgotten. She thought she and Varric between them had taken care of this. She’d have to talk to Varric. See what else they could do. Who else needed to be paid off or threatened. Or both.
Anders shook his head, carefully wrapping up the bread and cheese. “Not me specifically. They were checking the refugee camps again. But it’s not like this place is a secret. It’s only a matter of time.”
A small frown furrowed her brow. There was no doubt the Knight Commander had been cracking down on mages lately. It was even being talked of in the parties Leandra dragged her to, and if the nobles had noticed it, it must be bad. She knew Anders was working with the Mage Underground, and she suspected he was one of the leaders, if not the leader in Kirkwall. She wasn’t sure. He refused to talk to her about it. But she knew what would happen if the Templars did take him. Tranquility, without a doubt. She looked up at him, imagining those whiskey colored eyes blank and empty. She wouldn't let that happen.
"Don’t tell me things like that. I’m going to have to lock you away just to keep you safe.” Her tone was light, but she wasn’t smiling, and her eyes were anxious as she looked at him.
His hand briefly reached out and stroked her cheek. “Sweetheart I’m not letting anyone lock me up. Not even you.” His eyes were warm and he gave her a teasing smile that she couldn’t help answering with one of her own.
She loved that little smirk of a smile. The one that made his eyes glow amber. She didn’t see it much recently. It gave her a glimpse of what he might have been before Justice, or before the wardens, or what he might have been like if he had never been brought to the Circle at all. Even as she looked at him, the smile had disappeared, and the scowl was back.
He began pacing as he spoke. “The Knight Commander’s out of control. Even her own people are talking about it. The raids on mages families. The curfews. Everyone I know forced into hiding to keep from being made tranquil.” Hawke felt just a shiver of magic, and knew what it was even before she saw the hint of blue in Anders’ eyes.
“Is it making things difficult for you. With Justice?” she asked carefully.
He took a deep breath and the blue disappeared. “When he sees the Templars, the injustices mages suffer, he doesn’t want to hold back. I worry what my friend has become. What my anger did to him. He's frustrated. There’s no time in the Fade. He doesn’t understand having to wait until the time is right. He has no patience. But I can’t say I have any more than him of late.”
“Well, if they want you they’ll have to go through me first.” She said fiercely, “I won’t let them harm you.”
He looked at her, sudden desperation in his eyes. “And what if you’re at as much risk as I am?” he asked. “What if the Knight Commander finds out what you can do? What it your money and position aren’t enough to protect you?” It was the thing that kept him awake at night.
“Anders.” She gave him an exasperated look. “How many tests have you done on me? In over two years you’ve never felt any magic from me.”
“No, I haven’t.” He admitted. But what if he weren’t testing the right thing? She could sense magic, sense mages. What if the Templars had some other means of detecting that. He didn’t think they did. He’d never even heard of anyone who could sense mages when they weren’t casting. Maybe she was safe. But just the thought of Hawke at the mercy of the Knight Commander and her Templars. His fists clenched at his sides. He felt Justice begin to stir again.
Hawke was immediately at his side. She reached up and pulled his head down so his forehead rested against hers. Her hands stroked his hair. She could feel when Justice was disturbed, he realized, and he wondered that it had never occurred to him before that she might be able to do so. Justice grew even more agitated at the realization. Her eyes were filled with concern for him, not for herself, of course. Why did she never put herself first? He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her. letting himself relax into her touch. He felt Justice quiet. His hands went to her waist, clutching almost desperately.
“Everything I’ve done to control this, to control Justice. If it would keep you safe I don’t care. I would drown us both in blood.” He muttered.
Anabel just raised a dubious eyebrow, and continued stroking his hair. “You don’t think flowers or jewelry might be more appropriate?” she said in a gently teasing tone.
He pulled away from her, unsmiling. “You know that’s not the kind of thing I can offer you.” he said bleakly.
Her hands fell to her side. “And you know that’s not important to me.” She said simply. He turned away. “Don’t you ever wonder about it? What we might be like together?”
Every day. He shook his head in denial. “No. You don’t know what you’d be doing if you tied yourself to me.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Of course I don’t know. Every time I try to get close to you, you push me away.” She honestly didn’t even know if she really wanted it. She loved Anders. She didn’t think she was in love with him, exactly. Isabela insisted she wasn’t. There hadn’t been any repeat of anything like that amazing kiss they’d shared in the Deep Roads. But she wasn't certain that she couldn't fall in love with him either.
“I’m not safe.” He insisted. “My control is fraying. I won't be able to control Justice for much longer. I’m dangerous.”
“That’s Justice talking, not you.” She said sharply, wanting to throttle him. Wanting to throttle Justice, actually.
His voice took on a hint of anger. “We’re one and the same. When will you understand that?”
She just shook her head. “No. I don’t believe that. And I’m not afraid of him.” She said it with absolute certainty.
He just stared at her. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such faith. He didn’t know if it was a blessing or a punishment. Here he sat in his sewer of a clinic, haggard, tired, unshaven, probably not very clean, and there she stood in front of him in her fine clothes, her face wide open, hiding nothing, convinced he was worth caring about. If she persisted in this, the two of them, if she started demanding something more from him, he didn’t know how he could resist her. It was taking so much effort to keep the distance between them. Effort he should be putting into helping the mages. Effort he needed to be putting into keeping Justice under control. How much easier it would it be to just grab her, press her against the wall, kiss her the way he really wanted to. Would that be such a disaster? He knew the answer. “You should have a normal life.” He finally said. “I can’t give you that.”
She let out a groan of frustration. “Maker, I hate it when you say that. As if I’ve ever had anything close to a normal life. Like I have no idea what it’s like to live with an apostate. Stop treating me like a child!” She said, stomping her small foot on the ground.
He looked down at her foot and then up at her face and just raised his eyebrows. He couldn't keep a small smile off his face.
“Oh shut up.” She said glaring at him. “You really are the most frustrating person I know. And I know a lot of frustrating people.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she let her head rest against his side for a moment before she pulled away with a sigh. “I should go. I’ve got to get ready for a thing tonight.” She sounded utterly resigned.
“A thing?” He asked.
“A state dinner for the Orlesian ambassador. Dinner and a ball actually.”
“Sounds important.”
“Sounds dull as dry toast you mean. I intend to escape at the earliest opportunity and head to the Hanged Man. Will you be there?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I have a prior commitment.” He wouldn't meet her eyes.
Her face lit up. “Is it the Underground?“ She asked in a low but eager voice. “Let me go with you. I don’t have to go to this ridiculous party. I can help.”
“No.” No reason offered. Just a no. Like everytime she asked about the Underground.
“I’ll be fine. You know I can protect myself. I can protect whomever you’re helping. You don’t need to worry about me.” She said, trying to convince him.
“That’s not it.” he said, suddenly closed off.
“Then why won’t you ever bring me to one of these meetings?”
His face was carefully blank. “You have too many ties to the nobles and the Templars in this town.”
Her expression faltered briefly. “You mean they don’t trust me? Couldn’t you talk to them? Tell them about my father? About Bethany? Wouldn’t it make a difference if they knew?”
He just looked at her.
And then she realized. “Shit.” She said softly looking away. “It’s not them, it’s you, isn’t it?” she said looking back at him. Her eyes were disbelieving.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” he started to say.
She just stared at him, staggered by the realization. “Yes. It is. That’s exactly what it is. Because of some of the decisions I’ve made. Feynriel. The Starkhaven mages.”
Anders didn’t say anything right away, but the look in his eyes gave her the answer. “I’ve never hidden from you how I felt about those decisions.” He said eventually.
“You’re right. You haven’t.” She didn't speak for a moment. “Right then. I’ve got to go.” She turned and walked out of the storage room, blinking furiously. She was not going to cry about this. Not here anyway.
Anders quickly followed her out into the clinic. “Hawke.” He called, his voice pleading.
She whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Don’t you Hawke me! You know how many mages I’ve helped, how many laws I’ve broken. You know I don’t treat mages any differently than anyone else in this city. But if you think I’m going to give a free pass to someone who’s a danger to Kirkwall just because they are a mage, then you really don’t know me at all. How dare you find fault with me for that? After everything we’ve been through together. How dare you say you don’t trust me?” She was almost shouting now, and the people left in the clinic were studiously not looking at them.
“I do trust you.” He protested.
Her blue green eyes were brilliant with unshed tears as she looked at him, and she simply shook her head. “Not enough, apparently.” She turned away. “I have to go. I have a thing.”
He watched as she walked out of the clinic without looking back.
It was just getting dark when Sebastian knocked on the door to the Grand Cleric’s rooms, somehow resisting the urge to pull at the collar of his new doublet. At her gentle “Come in.” he pushed open the door and entered the room.
Elthina was seated in an armchair by the fire, a cup of tea on a small table beside her. She looked him over carefully as he approached. In his formal clothes he looked every inch the prince. The Chantry brother he’d been for the last twelve years was nowhere to be seen. Well, almost nowhere, she thought, noting that he’d chosen a dark grey brocade shot through with gold threads for his finery, a perfect match for the Chantry robes he usually wore.
“Very nice.” Said Elthina, her tone carefully neutral.
“I feel a perfect fool.” He admitted. “It’s been so long since I had to dress for anything of this sort. Do I look as awkward and uncomfortable as I feel?” It had been over decade since he’d been to any sort of state occasion. The formal clothes felt utterly foreign to him.
“Not at all." she said in a soothing tone. "This will give you an chance to get used to them. Such formal occasions will be an unavoidable part of your duties should you choose to return to Starkhaven.” She pointed out.
“I’m aware of that.” Sebastian said, trying not to sound petulant. I’d just been hoping to avoid it a bit longer, he thought with a sigh. “I apologize, your Grace. I’m not looking forward to this evening. The superficiality, the small talk, everyone wrapped up in petty politics and intrigues. I despised that long before I became a priest. My time in the Chantry has been a welcome respite from it.”
“It’s you who are refusing to renew your vows, Sebastian. It’s been over two years since you renounced them. Enough time has passed. You know my feelings on the subject. You can retake your vows whenever you wish.” Her voice was serene, not in any way judgmental.
He shook his head. “I can’t. Not yet. You know my reasons better than anyone.” He said, despising his own uncertainty. Two years. Had it really been so long?
Two years as a lay brother, continuing to assist at services, hear confessions. When Brother Cyrus had passed away last winter he had officially taken over as Elthina’s secretary. He took comfort in the familiarity of the routine, found the work worthwhile, pleasing even, but he’d never quite regained that sense of belonging that he’d possessed before his family’s murder.
Two years, and he was still torn between life as a priest and life as a prince. He’d had meetings with the Viscount, had travelled to other cities in the Free Marches to speak with other rulers, to gauge if they would give their support to his endeavor, to try and decide if it would be in everyone’s best interests for him to take the throne of Starkhaven. He had even met with a few supporters from Starkhaven itself, and still he was no closer to a decision. Some had pledged aid if he decided to return, but he would need more gold, more soldiers, more support if he were to do so. And lives would be lost on both sides were he to go ahead with it.
He didn’t know if he could do that, be the reason for those deaths. Word from Starkhaven was that his cousin Goran was proving an indifferent ruler at worst. He made no demands that could be considered unreasonable. No one seemed to be suffering unduly. Trade continued. Life continued.
Could he ask men to go to their deaths just for his revenge, just so one of his father’s sons would wear the crown? Would it not be better for everyone involved if he remained where he was, if he simply renewed his vows, resumed his life in the Chantry?
He honestly didn’t know. He looked helplessly at Elthina.
Elthina watched him carefully, well aware of the conflict going through his mind. They had discussed it so often in the last two years. “I think it’s important that you attend tonight’s event. You know the life of a priest and what it entails. I think perhaps you need a taste of that other life. If you cannot tolerate an evening of it, how will you tolerate it for a lifetime?”
“I know. It’s something I need to do. I do understand that.” He hesitated for a moment before asking “Do I look all right?”
Elthina looked at him, tall and elegant. The cut of his clothing was simple, but the fabrics were rich and of the highest quality. His looks made him stand out even in his priest’s robes. Dressed as a nobleman there was no hiding how very handsome he was. She smiled at him. “More than just all right. Let yourself enjoy the evening, Sebastian. It might surprise you.”
He couldn’t help a small snort of disbelief at the idea. “I’ll return before the doors are locked for the evening.” He insisted. That meant he would only have to stay for the reception, dinner and possibly one or two dances at the ball itself.
“Nonsense.” Said Elthina. She reached over and picked up a key that was lying next to her teacup and handed it to him. “This is the key to the side door under the stairs. As you will no doubt be attending other events that will require you to keep somewhat different hours than the other brothers and sisters I thought it wise that you should have your own copy. There is no need for you to hurry back early tonight. Enjoy yourself.” She somehow made it sound like a command.
“Thank you Grand Cleric.” He said and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He looked at the key in his hand. He was dreading the evening ahead.