An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown

[apurrstate]

The crackle of the fire was the only sound in the camp and the silence surrounding it was deafening.

Their group was so small now, much smaller than it had been only a week ago. A week and everything had changed. That had been his plan, after all...but it had gotten out of hand in Kirkwall, the devastation of the fighting had been so much worse than he'd imagined. Still, he wouldn't change it. Looking around the fire, Hawke and Varric to one side, Merrill asleep at another and Aveline and Carver left in the city now days at their backs, he still wouldn't change it. Isabella long gone, Fenris dead...all he had to do was think back to the years when they were a larger group to know what was missing...and he still wouldn't change it.

It had to happen and while maybe part of him wished it didn't have to be him who carried out the act, he knew too, that he couldn't simply ask someone else to do what he wasn't willing to.

It should have ended for him that night, it was what he'd planned. Instead it didn't, his love had spared him and somehow made him see the next day...and the day after. Each new day Anders saw drew new surprise and a mixture of hope and defeat. Hope that maybe there'd be another day after this one as well, but defeat in knowing it couldn't possibly last.

He'd put his life in Adalwolfe's hands and it hadn't been ended, he'd said they'd need to run away from the city to remain together and, at the gates of Kirkwall, Hawke had said his goodbyes to long-time friend and brother and led the way out into the Free Marches. It would have to end at some point, this kind of luck didn't last.

Anders stood and quietly stepped away from the fire and the group's small camp. He wouldn't be able to find sleep anytime soon anyway. Hawke had slept apart from him (understandably so) and Anders found it hard to bare after years of feeling that warmth pressed in his arms. Yet he didn't ask and Hawke didn't offer and Anders continued not to sleep but for minutes at a time. He should be used to it, perhaps life in Hightown had softened him up too much. His few steps took him to the edge of the land, the drop off below leading straight into the ocean they were following for now. He leaned against a large rock set in the ground and gave a sigh.

What if he simply stepped off the ledge and fell to the waters below? That would be easier for his companions, wouldn't it? They could go back to their lives while the fires of his rebellion continued to burn across Thedas and the people he'd murdered could have their justice at last. What was he living for, anyway? The love of his life spared him for...some reason and didn't even banish him from his side and yet he barely looked at him. His friends wouldn't look at him. Even Justice seemed so muted as to almost be gone, like fulfilling Their goal had snuffed the spirit out. Only that faint hum in the back of his mind told him it wasn't true.

It would be easier...

His feet stayed planted where they were. He wouldn't take those extra steps. Perhaps there was still a part of him that was a coward afterall. His eyes left the surf and lifted to the starry sky instead

Comments

[wolfehawke]

"We could have gotten the Sisters out. Something to keep the loss of innocent life to a minimum. Not every Revered Mother is Patrice, nor is every Templar Meredith, just as not every mage is above all reproach. We've fought our share of blood mages and abominations and I-"

He lets out a breath, stopping himself. He's just talking in anger now, not telling Anders anything he doesn't already know. It's not that every Templar is a zealot. Things would have come to a head long ago if they were. No, it's that there are Grand Clerics like Elthina who mean well but do nothing, Templars like Thrask who sympathize but have little power to overturn anything on their own. Those who do not act are part of the problem, complacency is part of the problem.

Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.
Foul and corrupt are they
Who have taken His gift
And turned it against His children.

He remembers Anders' interpretation in his manifesto, a crumpled page Hawke had found wedged between candlesticks at the dinner table and read simply because no one else had been home at the time to join him but Ser Drools and the hound is hardly a conversationalist.

The modern Chantry has turned these words into a treatise against us, that mages themselves should be made to serve against their will, but are we not all children of the Maker? That is also what the Chantry teaches, and in doing so they betray their hypocrisy. I say nay! Magic itself is to serve man, to heal and not be raised against fellow children of the Maker, but Mages are these children too and shall not be made slaves simply for being unwittingly given His gift!

The passage had started Hawke thinking, at least a bit before he was again called from a meal to deal with some trouble or another - the job of a Champion is never finished, after all. Hawke had never been a particularly religious man but he knew the Chant as well as anyone else and it troubled him that he'd never heard this way of thinking. Never thought this way himself until reading Anders' words, as annoying as it was to find pages hidden in every crevice of his estate.

Now all for Carver to find, he supposes.

He let's out another breath.

"I'm not angry for what you did, Anders. You're right, something had to give. I'm just... disappointed in how you went about it. I would have liked to have chosen when I'd have to fight the late Knight-Commander and then flee as an enemy of the Chantry. At least then I could have gotten some things in order." He gives a wan smile, a poor joke offered with a bit more bite than he'd intended, but Anders was usually quite good at picking up his meaning.

[apurrstate]

His lips twitch up into an almost-smile, certainly the closest he's been in a while, despite the seriousness still in the conversation. Hawke had that affect, and not only on Anders.

He had to ask. Days of not knowing why and putting it off had led to this and if he didn't ask now, he never would and it would eat at him.

"Why did you spare me? Even beyond that, why did you then come with me you could have kept your life, your status. I tried to spare you this outcome and you followed it through all the same."

Now he looked up at Hawke. "Years ago, I told you I'd break your heart. I didn't know how, but I knew it would happen. Why did you not simply banish me from you when it finally did?"

It was all he could ask now. At the time, he hadn't wanted to second-guess a chance to continue fighting for the mages, but now he needed to know. They could discuss what he'd done till dawn and it wouldn't change the fact he'd done it and the ramifications were already playing out, this...what now was what he needed to look to.

[wolfehawke]

At Anders' question, Hawke looks at him dumbly, trying to parse if the mage honestly has no idea or if he's goading Adalwolfe into saying the words he's been reluctant to say since they'd left the city walls. A heavy blink and Anders is still looking at him expectantly, almost nervously. He really doesn't know the answer, then.

"You're an idiot. A grand one," Hawke pronounces, mouth set in an unimpressed line. "After six years and having you move in with me, giving you the key to a secret tunnel from my cellar to Darktown so you could get to your clinic without being seen? Training my dog not to chase stray cats that boldly decide to just waltz onto our balconies for you? After you've seen me at my weakest and you still stayed? Do you really not know the answer to that?"

Hawke regards his companion incredulously and something of that feeling welled up inside him. It was weak, fainter than it had been when he'd just started to weasel into Anders' life and Anders into his, but no less strong of vibrant. Perhaps he'd just needed the reminder of their history, of why he'd spared Anders. Because of course he would spare Anders. He may be a mess of sleeplessness, stress, and bad decisions, but he's Hawke's mess. No way around it.

[apurrstate]

He winces, guilt flaring up for having insinuated he didn't know Hawke loved him. Of course he knew, he knew just as he knew with every breath he loved Hawke more deeply than he'd ever loved another person. But just because his feelings hadn't changed didn't mean Adalwolfe's hadn't.

"People fall out of love, Hawke, it happens. Especially because they feel betrayed." His eyes flicked away, but then came back to rest on Hawke. He'd already stepped in it this far, he might as well keep going. "I owe you my life, even before this whole thing, but now more than ever. Every breath I take is because of you and I still love you with all my heart. I always will." He shook his head. "None of that means you must stay with me or keep me at your side."

He belonged to Hawke, and as he'd hurt the man he loved, it was no longer his choice as to what his role in Hawke's life would be. That was his true question, the one he needed answered now, would he continue in the Champion's shadow or disappear at his once-partner's bidding and never return?

Truth be told, if Hawke gave him no answer and instead left Anders to silently follow for lack of another direction or drive, he would have to accept that as well. He'd followed Hawke for seven years, that wasn't about to change now without being told.

[wolfehawke]

"People fall out of love because something changes, or because the one they'd given their heart to turned out not to be who they thought they were. But you haven't changed, Anders. As long as I've known you, you've always been a driven man. Wanting equality, wanting freedom, and while I never thought you would go quite this far, it hasn't changed, and it's why I fell in love with you."

A beat.

"You're not bad to look at, either."

Another joke that really doesn't have much of a place in this conversation, but they've been under oppressive tension long enough. He had to break it somehow, even if all it did was make Anders roll his eyes and not smile in spite of himself like Hawke was after.

He lets out the last breath he'd been holding, letting his anger go with it, a kind of magic his father had taught him before Malcom passed away. Not all magic is flashy lights or wielding the elements. Some is private, quiet, helps you think or get through a day. Magic like this, anyone can do with practice, and while Adalwolfe is older now and knows it's not magic, not in the sense that marks them as apostates, he still practices it to keep himself centered. It's not magic, but it does help.

Quietly, Hawke looks at Anders, the infuriating man he'd tied himself to and would do again even knowing what his fellow mage would do. Perhaps that makes him a maleficar too despite his never using blood magic.

'Foul and corrupt are they
Who have taken His gift
And turned it against His children.'

But he thinks of how Anders reads it, thinks of all the times the Chantry has turned their 'gift' against them, to imprison them, make them Tranquil, murder them. If this brings about the change that all mages have been screaming for together, then so be it. And if he doesn't lose Anders, he can stand anything the world, the Chantry, or the Maker himself throws at him.

"If you actually want to go I won't stop you, but you'd take my heart with you if you went."

[apurrstate]

It doesn't get the smile Hawke hoped for, but his ill-timed flirtation does earn an amused scoff. Only Hawke.

But he takes some comfort in what he's hearing, even as part of his mind reminds himself of exactly how much he had changed, even if that fell outside of the whole 'as long as I've known you' part.

He pauses, quiet once more. He'd take Hawke's heart? He never should have given in to his desires, if he hadn't, perhaps Hawke would be happy and safe with someone else. But that wasn't what had happened and, now that he had it, he never wanted to give up Hawke's love.

And he had almost thrown himself and that precious golden heart into the ocean.

He stepped closer, into Adalwolfe's space, his hand raising to play lightly with the loose white strands of the other mage's hair. His eyes never left Hawke's, he needed to know Anders meant every word.

"I have followed you for years without regret. If that is truly how you feel, then I have no intention of stopping now. I am yours, Hawke. Forevermore."

[wolfehawke]

How does he do that? Know exactly the thing to say to make Hawke's face color and have him shove away every last bit of doubt he's still experiencing in knowing his heart is a terrorist. But it's Anders, but he did it for the right reasons, and he's started something that may finally turn out to better their people in the end and have you considered that intense way he looks at you and the little turn of his eyebrows because he's unsure how you feel too, even still, and that curl to his mouth when he sets it oh so seriously and...

With a sigh of defeat, Hawke leans in and kisses Anders, both as a way to break eye contact and a surrender to the inevitable.

He's gone too far. He can't back out now.

Nor does he want to.

[apurrstate]

Every word came from his heart and laying his heart bare for Hawke was all he had left to give. He was rewarded with the press of his lover's lips against his and feels both right and like a wash of relief. An hour ago, he hadn't been certain he'd ever get to kiss these lips again.

The relief, the happiness, it caught in his throat and choked him, stinging his eyes and catching his breath. He didn't deserve this, this joy or this man, he deserved what lay at the bottom of this cliff. He deserved a knife in his back. The people he'd killed deserved justice, not for him to find happiness after he'd ended theirs.

He would need to spend the rest of his life atoning. He would need to work to deserve this contentment that threatened to take him.

He opened his eyes and bid for his face to stay dry even if his eyes themselves didn't, and pressed deeply into the sweet kiss. When he broke it, it was only to whisper against Hawke's lips.

"I love you."

[wolfehawke]

"And I love you." Anders is about to cry and Hawke can feel the lump in his throat at realizing it. He'd wished fervently before that he couldn't see himself in the spirit healer's shoes. That he couldn't imagine what could drive someone to such lengths, such depths that they'd murder innocents. He'd wanted to shut it out at the start, just keep his head down and make some money and take care of his mother. It wasn't his fight.

Only it was. And he could see it. He wouldn't have done it, but perhaps thought something must be done. Confronted Meredith, still killed her because of the lyrium poisoning and brought the Chantry down on Kirkwall in the process. He may not have ever think of planting a bomb, but the yearning for change was there, the want for choice, and the knowledge that it would not come without bloodshed.

Everything he'd worked for was gone, and it would have been gone either way because he's Adalwolfe Hawke, and he can never really back down when he sees suffering. Sees anyone suffering.

And Anders had suffered enough.

"Always."