makinglies | Dragon Age: Inquisition: Anders Inquisitor AU

Anders isn't dead.

It's the only thing that sustained Adalwolfe in his long ride from eastern Orlais to Haven. He pushes his horses too hard and just trades for a new one at each town. He should be pacing himself but he can't take the time, not when this budding Inquisition has hold of that which is dearest. And most idiotic, apparently.

He bursts through the gates of the town with spin of his staff, still mounted and casting his magic from horseback. It's not until he's at the gates of the only stone building left in the encampment that he swings off the horse and marches right to the doors, throwing them open with such force that they creak with alarming volume. Doors that large were't meant to move that quickly, but Hawke doesn't have the patience to wait. Not for that, nor the yelling he can hear of the scouts and soldiers coming up the slope outside.

"Oh Maker's bloody-- Hawke!" That voice gives him only a moment's pause as Cullen Rutherford comes charging in, boots tracking snow-damp prints on the stone floor of the chantry building and his armor jangling dimly under the massive fur mantle he's got curled around his shoulders like a mane.

"There's time for you later," Adalwolfe tosses back at the Templar, continuing forward with long strides until he bursts into the inner chamber. What used to be the chapel is now more appointed for war. A large table with a map and metal icons to push around, weapons and other sundry items stored in corners for lack of anywhere else to put them, and three figures at points around the table. The two women - a redhead whose hand goes immediately to her belt and an Antivan who gasps and steps back, clutching a writing board to her chest - he ignores, his attention on only the last familiar figure with his back to him.

Anders starts to turn around and Hawke punches him square in the jaw.

Edited 2016-11-01 15:40 (UTC)

Cullen was late which, really, wasn't like him. Anders might have a few opinions on the ex-knight captain, but he knew well that Cullen took responsibility very seriously. Something must be happening.

'What was happening' quickly made itself known when raised voices could be heard from the Chantry's hall outside. Anders knew in an instant who it was and his heart simultaneously jumped and sank. He knew it wouldn't take Hawke long to find the note...but at the time he'd written it, he anticipated being in a prison or Tranquil or simply dead by that time.

He was miraculously none of those things. He deserved the punch he received as he turned to see his lover, and it made him stumble back into the war table. But even with his jaw throbbing, happiness, relief, pain in his heart, all warred for his attention far better than any physical discomfort. He didn't regret attempting to make amends and turn himself in, giving his victims justice, answering for his crimes, and freeing Hawke from this life he'd chained himself to with Anders, but he was too selfish to not feel and embrace the rush of bone-shaking relief at seeing Hawke again.

Anders moved to him, arms reaching to draw Adalwolfe close, if he'd allow it. He just wanted to pet that soft hair and kiss his love's face and feel the solid warmth of his Hawke in his arms again.

Of course, Hawke had never been this mad before, at least not at Anders, so he also wouldn't be surprised if his affection wasn't all that welcome currently.

"Love...I'm so sorry." He'd hurt Hawke all over again, even if he still believed what he'd done had been right, hurting Hawke was never forgivable and he seemed to be the best at it.

"You'd better be," Hawke's voice is a low growl and he grabs Anders by the lapels, wrenching him close so he can kiss him as ferociously as he'd just yelled. Everything behind the anger, the worry, the panic that drove him in a mad dash across half of Thedas and through a warzone where he's at least public enemy number 2, the relief to find Anders here in one piece when he'd been certain the Conclave explosion had ended his love in one fell swoop. He'd started this journey as one of revenge, of seeing answers. He'd been ready to tear down Haven by the nails if they'd been responsible for Anders' death. But then there were rumors, on the road. Whispers of the Herald of Andraste, none other than Anders the Renegade. Anders the apostate who had sparked the revolution. Some said his name with hate, some with reverence, but each person Hawke had cornered for answers and rumors all had one thing in common with their stories: Anders was alive.

He could figure out this plucked from the Fade nonsense later.

Hawke kisses Anders a bit too long and a bit too hard and he can hear in his periphery a stifled giggle from the Antivan woman with the writing board, followed by the other woman clearing her throat as the sound of Cullen's boots drew to a hault in the entryway, still standing blown open by the storm that is the Champion of Kirkwall.

"Perhaps if you two would like a moment to... catch up?" There's a spark of amusement in the redhead's Orlesian accent, though also a tone that implies they'd best take her up on her kind offer of that moment before she decides it's better to break them up personally and move on.

Anders can barely find it in him to care that they aren't alone here. They might as well be for how much attention he was giving the advisers. It had been a heartbreakingly long six weeks without Hawke.

He pressed into the kiss with desperate need like a man starved and only bothered to pull slightly away to caress Adalwolfe's cheek and into his hair, still dirty from the road but achingly real and perfect for it. "Of course, Leliana. I apologize for the interruption."

Josiphine cleared her throat, but even not looking at her, Anders can hear the smile in her voice. "It's quite all right. We'll continue this later on." Cullen made a disgruntled noise and Anders could hear his heavy boots step aside to allow them to pass. Better take their cue while Leliana was giving it to them.

He took Hawke's hand and led him back through the Chantry and out into the bright sunlight of Haven. Where there seemed to be a small gathering of soldiers and civilians, all murmuring and looking hesitantly into the Chantry as though afraid the building may blow up just as the Conclave had. Their concerned gazes fell to Hawke as the two mages stepped into the light. and it only took a moment for Anders to piece together what they must be thinking.

He put on a smile as Threin stepped forward, a somber and stoney expression on her face like she might be coming over to do something about the 'threat' Adalwolfe posed. Time to think fast.

"It's alright, go back to what you were doing. I apologize for the scare the Champion of Kirkwall might have caused...there was a misunderstanding, it's all sorted now."

He didn't bother to wait and see if his words took affect like he'd hoped, instead he just continued to lead them off to the cluster of cottages and the one Anders had been put in. Thank the Maker these people listened to him for some insane reason.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Anders turned to Hawke. "What were you going to do, fight the entire Inquisition?"

"Yes," Wolfe replies bluntly, leaning against the nearest piece of furniture and looking at Anders with his eyes dark and his arms crossed. "I thought you were dead until I started hearing tales about how you were tossed out of that Rift by Andraste herself. What in the Maker's name were you thinking, going to the Conclave? We'd agreed it was better to stay out of it."

His posture remains tight, angry, and despite the coolness in his voice he's still clearly hurt. He'd dedicated the last ten years of his life to Anders, the last seven to his cause, and yet somehow the spirit healer continues to intentionally put himself into positions where he'll die easily. Hawke knows better than to think it's his fault - Anders had this problem long before they'd ever met, of that Wolfe is certain - but that the fact that he has Hawke isn't enough to stop him cuts more deeply than any moment of heartbreak before it.

"You lied to me. What's more, you intended to say goodbye in a note. A note. After ten years, I suppose I should be grateful I'm worthy of at least a note." He runs a hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling as if he can find some answer written there, some solution for the great mystery of why Anders can't just let it be.

Or does he know the answer to that already? The same reason he helps every down on their luck refugee or fresh-faced apostate that happens to cross their path; they both care too much, they both want to see the world better for their having been in it, and while Adalwolfe has no doubt that despite the bloodshed in Kirkwall they started something fundamentally necessary, if not good, Anders is plagued by it rather than proud. He'd set the bomb. He'd ignited it. He'd sat there, calm as you please on that crate and expected a knife in the back for that crime. He's still expecting it, despite all of Wolfe's attempts to persuade him that to keep living and keep trying to fix things is a far better atonement.

Adalwolfe's eyes find the cracks in the wall behind Anders, trace where a mouse might be getting in and stealing whatever scraps it can find to survive the winter in Haven, and he knows he's let the silence stretch too long. He has to say something to fill it, something easy and not at all as cruel as he guiltily feels at the moment, ready to lash out like a desperate animal. He feels desperate, with the stunt that Anders pulled. Desperate to keep him when he apparently wants so badly to go. "You look strange without your feathers. They're in my pack, if you want them."

Anders lets the words fall on him like knives, each cutting a little deeper until he aches with it. The silence just leaves the cuts throbbing as he keeps himself silent to let Hawke say what he would. The feathers comment is the most surprising part of everything his lover just threw at him and Anders runs a hand over one of his shoulders as though remembering what it felt like to smooth the feathers there.

"I can't believe you brought them with you."

Anders' eyes trace along the floor, finding imperfections in the wood and letting them steal his gaze for the time being.

"I'm sorry for the note. You're right, you deserved better than that, but short of paralyzing you and walking away, I couldn't think of a kinder way to keep you from coming with me. If you had-" All those twisted, melted, charred bodies. Innocent people caught in the flash fire of an explosion no one could have prepared for. Would they be like that, away from whatever had spared Anders? Or would it just be him standing here now, nothing left of the Champion of Kirkwall but a mutilated and charred corpse? He was sorry it had to be a note when Hawke deserved an entire novel's worth of praise, adoration and gratitude, but Anders wasn't sorry he'd left it.

It could have been so much worse. He'll take the anger and hurt over a dead Adalwolfe Hawke.

"I know we talked about it, but after we did, I couldn't stop thinking about it. They wanted to find peace, work something out all sides could be happy with. We did our part freeing the circles and helping mages see that things can be better, we helped them get to where they were supposed to be going. I thought, if I turned myself in, it could make the process easier. You said to atone through living and my actions after and I have been. I still was when I made that decision. I wanted to help...but I couldn't ask you to come with me this time. You deserve to live a life with fewer complications and more happiness, Hawke."

He's silent. The words that had popped into his head as soon as Hawke had accused Anders of not caring enough to do more than leave a note, swirled in his mind and threatened to choke him as they clambered up his throat to rest on his tongue. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, but firm.

"I love you. More than my own life, more than anything in the entirety of Thedas and I am more sorry than I can properly express that I hurt you again. But, Hawke, this decision wasn't about you."

He's really not sure why he did. At the moment he packed he'd thought Anders was dead, but it seemed like the thing to do. He'd left everything else. Anders' potion brewing kit, all of the bits and bobs they'd collected over the years. He'd grabbed his staff and stuffed clothes in a bag and that was it. Only he'd paused at Anders' feathered pauldrons, left behind because they're so recognizable, if he had to guess, and Anders would want to at least get to the Conclave to make a scene before being murdered. Always so dramatic.

Hawke could see it, Anders pulling down a hooded cloak directly in the middle of the proceedings, interrupting the Divine and all the Grand Clerics, not to mention near every Grand Enchanter in southern and central Thedas. He'd try to make some grand speech about the wrong thing for the right reasons or how they all could now see that change was needed. Necessary. And that he had done his part and now had to atone for it as they saw fit. How the Chantry always saw fit when a mage steps out of line. Anders would have still found his way to be a martyr.

But that isn't the part that bothers Hawke. Or rather, that bothers him the most. Instead it's how they'd talked about it and then Anders had decided to throw all of that out and go his own way. Yes, he'd probably thought of how Wolfe would feel but it wasn't enough, wasn't as important as the guilt he carries for what he did, what he had to do. Still, still, Anders doesn't believe that Adalwolfe wants to face these things together.

"No, it wasn't, but therein lies the problem." From anyone else the statement might sound self-centered ad petulant, but from Wolfe it promises an explanation. "We talked about it together. We made a decision, together. And then the moment I've got my back turned, you turn right 'round and ignore what we've decided on together. We're an us, Anders! You're not protecting me by locking me out and telling me what I deserve. I'm tired of people telling me what I deserve! My father, my mother, my friends, the Viscount, the Circle, the bloody Chantry, everyone in any position all my life has told me what I deserve and what I should want, be it good or ill, but I am too bloody old to be dictated to any longer. Especially not by you!"

He points at Anders to illustrate the point, angry but hurt and the two are warring for dominance on his face. A moment later he runs his hands over his face instead, trying to banish them both. "It should have been a decision about the both of us, Anders."

"And what would you have said if I told you I'd changed my mind? Would you have packed my bag for me and sent off with a kiss? No! If you had even listened to me, you would have come with me and then you likely would have been arrested alongside me, but they wouldn't kill you Hawke, they'd make you waste away in a cell for the rest of your life! Is that the kind of decision you'd like to make!?

"Maybe we'd have been lucky and caught in the explosion too! Or maybe, Maker forbid, everything would have gone exactly the same but you don't make it this time and the only thing left of you is a skeleton with it's skin melted to the bones and fused to the ground where you started to fall, if there'd even be enough of you to mourn over! Innocent mages and even non-mages were being killed in the streets and you could barely show your face in any town we went to; I just wanted to make things right!"

His words are practically a snarl as they run unchecked from his brain to his mouth, every 'what if' that had played through it since he'd made his decision. But as soon as they were out, he could feel the wind slipping from his sails, leaving him feeling drained and an unpleasant mixture of exhausted, wary and near tears. He collapsed into one of the two chairs in the tiny cabin and slumped forward on his elbows so his hands hung limp in the air.

As he stared at them, the left one picked up it's still foreign glow and spark of the mark on his palm. He hadn't even gotten what he'd aimed to accomplish. He'd just gotten this mark and a growing group of people who looked to him as 'Andraste's prophet.' What a damn joke. The Maker must really and truly hate him. And Hawke should too, after how Anders had now ruined their lives twice. He wouldn't, though. Anders would have to do it for the both of them.

"You're right. I shouldn't have made the decision for you. Nobody should make decisions for you, least of all me, I've done it too many times out of a desire to protect you. Each time I've only made things worse."

He turned his left hand over, staring at the glowing mark and partially wondering if he could maybe cut it off and they could go back to their lives instead. "Now I've got this and all those people out there, they-" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Adalwolfe. I messed up, I never should have left. We could be back in Orlais, warm and safe instead of here."

But it had been the Just thing to do, turning himself in, he could have given justice to his victims and all the innocents killed, could have put things back in balance.

But what he'd done to Hawke wasn't Just. He'd made the only man who cared about him think he died with his only goodbye being a piece of paper. The only person who'd stuck by him despite every shred of logic. Was the justice to those random strangers really more important to him than what justice Hawke deserved? No, it wasn't, and he could feel a surge of disapproval in himself for the thought.

"That's hindsight," Adalwolfe returns sullenly, crossing his arms again, but he listens to the rest. Lets Anders get angry, vent, and then deflate. He can take that much, at least. When Anders is angry, it's so much easier to deal with than it was with his family. They all always blamed each other, or him. Usually him. He carried their guilt for them, like everything else, and he did it gladly for a long time. Anders though, Anders wants to keep guilt and sorrow as far away from Wolfe as possible and while he still feels strongly about having that be his own choice, he does understand. And he's grateful even when it drives him to distraction.

And there is an apology, which also helps.

With a soft sigh, Adalwolfe moves over and sits not on the other chair he'd have to drag over, but just on the dusty floor of the cabin beside Anders' foot. He'd rather be close than comfortable right now. "Just... promise me you'll try and think more about how things will effect the both of us, alright? And no more lies. I can't stand that, not after everything we've been through."

He looks up at Anders, then over at the mark, glowing that soft otherworldly green. "And who knows, maybe this is the atonement you've been searching for. Closing rifts, keeping the world from tearing itself apart. Does it hurt?"

He wanted to argue that he hadn't lied, that he'd been perfectly honest when he'd said he initially didn't want to go and again when he'd written his note. Changing his mind didn't mean lying...but if Adalwolfe believed he'd lied it was bad enough. He'd never been particularly good about the truth...how could he ask Hawke to trust him now that he thought Anders had failed that trust twice? Maybe Anders shouldn't ask it.

"I promise. I-" He sighed and let the sentence fall away. He could remember clearly his thought process before when they'd talked and then the thought process after when he'd changed his mind and he thought he knew what the difference was, where the change had happened, but he kept it to himself. What was the point now?

"It did at first, now it only does when I use it and I think that has less to do with the mark itself and more to do with the energy it takes to do what it does." A beat and there's an edge of humor to Anders' voice. "It makes for a great nightlight."

Slowly, Anders slid from the chair to his knees to wrap his arms tight around Hawke's shoulders and bury his forehead against Adalwolfe's hair.

They can never just ease into conversation after an argument. They're too... something. Insecure, maybe, but whatever it is they always end up in a bundle of limbs as a reassurance that nothing has been broken irreparably. Nothing ever has. If Adalwolfe can forgive Anders for the Chantry, he can forgive Anders for this. Damn his ability to see the why of things, but it makes him so much more forgiving even when he maybe shouldn't be. Anders can make him feel so pointless sometimes, but normally? When he's not trying to get himself killed? Normally Anders makes him feel like the most important person in the world. And maybe he is. It's just that all mages together equal up to heavier than Adalwolfe himself, not in least part because Adalwolfe is a mage. It's their weight added to his. So. Heavier.

He'll take some small amount of solace in that thought, but most of it comes from Anders sinking to the floor with him and bringing himself close. Of being able to have his love still here, still smelling of sandalwood, elfroot, copper, and something new. Something ancient and a bit ethereal, like the Fade. Must be the mark, he reasons, and brings his arms up around his mage's shoulders, tilting his head so their foreheads are touching. Somehow, like this, he can breathe easier.

"I was so afraid I'd lost you, my heart."

"I know." He pressed a kiss to Hawke's cheek but tried to move as little as possible. "Varric was going to send you a letter, I'd hoped you'd come when you got it. I know it's likely better if you don't get involved, you know Cassandra was looking for you, but I just wanted you here with me."

He let out a sigh that was half a strangled laugh. "Things are insane. What have you been hearing on the roads?" Even as he slipped back into normal conversation, he still clung tight to Hawke, content to grasp at his clothes and breathe in the scent of the road and sharp and enticingly comfortable scent that was all Hawke.

The kiss is returned, but Wolfe also doesn't want to move lest he have to give up any of this contact. "The Seeker he sent about? I'm sure I can handle her."

If she hasn't come storming in to skewer him on her sword by now, she's probably not going to. Or was it that she wanted to involve him in this Inquisition thing? Because that's now pretty much a certainty. Hopefully that's the one she wanted because then he'll get less resistance for his sticking around. He's absolutely not going to be made to leave now.

"When did you last talk to Varric? Does he know about your trip to the Conclave?"

Anders gave Hawke a peculiar look, like he was trying to tell if Adalwolfe was joking or not, but he quickly realized that wasn't the case. Slowly, a smile spread over his face.

"Love, you must have blown past him in your rush to punch me in the jaw, he's usually not too far from Haven's gates. He was on his way to the Conclave when it exploded, Cassandra wanted him to tell your story and what happened in Kirkwall to Divine Justinia. He's been here since I first tried to close the Breach."

"What, really?" Wolfe laughs, a rumbling sound. "I did, I missed him entirely. I'll have to apologize."

Still amused, Adalwolfe leans in a bit to examine Anders' jaw, make sure he didn't do any lasting damage. "I have to say I'm glad they didn't make it to the Conclave in time. If the worst had happened, having both of you gone would have been..."

He sighs, dropping his hand, then gives a sort of weak half smile. He's shoving it away, turning the still clinging fears over what could have been out of his mind. It's over now, Anders is safe, Varric is safe. It doesn't help to dwell, so it must be best to move on. "I hear some are still blaming you for that, even while others are calling you Thedas' savior. What exactly happened out there, love?"

His jaw was still sore, but more in a dim ache way that meant it might be a bruise later, but he wasn't going to bother with it just yet. He deserved to wear that little reminder for a while.

He leans in a bit closer when he hears Hawke falter over the 'what ifs' but Anders can't blame him for them; he'd imagine plenty of his own. But Hawke's question is met with Anders shaking his head.

"Honestly? I don't remember. Which, Varric has so helpfully informed me, is a terrible alibi. He insists I should have made something up, but I'm not nearly as good at that as he is." Plus, he'd been so confused and disoriented when he woke up, he hadn't even had the presence of mind to think he ought to lie.

"What I remember is being at the Conclave and walking through an empty hallway. The next thing...I was running from something? Somewhere...and this woman reached out to me. She was trying to help. Then I woke up in Haven's cells, I've been trying, but I can't remember for the life of me. I'm sure it would answer a few questions everyone, including myself, has if I could.

"Did you find anything out with Stroud?"

Edited 2016-11-07 23:51 (UTC)

"Maybe it's a poor alibi but it's still the truth. I'm less worried what they'll do to you when you have that on your hand, though." He motions to the mark. Rumor had it it was the only thing that could be used to seal the rifts; somehow that tid-bit had made it into the gossip he'd uncovered on his way to Haven.

At the question of Stroud, Wolfe leans back against the edge of the chair. "We found more red lyrium deposits. They're growing in a lot more places than they should be, which is worrisome. Above ground, which is worse. I'm not sure what to do about it other than destroy what we can. There's worse news, though."

He looks at Anders sidelong, a seriousness settling over him like a shroud. "What's more is the Wardens. Stroud was hearing the Calling too, they all are. That's why they've gone, pulled back to some stronghold in the desert. It's all of them at once."

With a shift, he looks at Anders directly again, an intense look on his face. "Are you still hearing it?"

Anders' expression sobers, a business-like seriousness he'd only recently discovered he could slip into with ease. The red lyrium was troubling, maybe Leliana's people could find something out about it, maybe Josephine could use her contacts to discover just how wide-spread this 'infection' was. But then there were the Wardens...surely Cullen's scouts could find out the location, maybe even report back any suspicious findings. One thing was for certain, however: Leliana was correct to worry about them.

His thoughts veered off with Hawke's question and his eyes snapped back up to look at his partner. Out of anyone in this camp, Hawke at least ought to know what now only Anders and Blackwall knew.

"No, I'm not. Something happened after I came out of the Fade, I don't know if it had anything to do with that woman or not, but I can't hear the Calling, I can't sense Darkspawn, I can't sense other Wardens. I'm not a Grey Warden anymore, Adalwolfe. The Taint is gone.

Silence reigns, Adalwolfe looking at the space in between them as opposed to Anders himself. That news has to set in somehow, beyond the tumult of emotion Wolfe had been choking on for the last several days. It's still there, even with his physical proof that Anders is here, and if not safe than at least sound. As sound as he ever is. Does this count as something that just happened to Anders, or something that he caused to happen to him in his going to the Conclave?

Moreover, he doesn't trust the news, good though it appears to be. He can never trust good news, not unless its slight. Fresh pastries in the morning, a rabbit in their hunting trap on the road, those are benefits he can swallow in a long life of awful, but something that could easily tilt the scales even with the death and battle that's dogged him all the while in Kirkwall, in Ferelden? This he doesn't trust because he didn't fight for it, wasn't there to see it done. He's just hearing about it now and instead of light it makes him uneasy, as if someone is standing just out of sight with a crossbow to strike while he's distracted.

Whatever the case, Adalwolfe doesn't know what to feel for the moment. He nods slowly, carefully, hesitant in a way that he never is. "You're... certain?"

Anders scoffed lightly and shook his head. "Not entirely, no. I was never a very good Grey Warden, it could be something else entirely...but, at the same time, I know it's not. I know it's gone. I can't explain it to you, the evidence I have could be worse, but I have no test I could take to prove it to you."

Anders finally moved and went to one of the windows to look out at the glistening snow, now growing dimmer as the sun began to set. "The nightmares aren't about Darkspawn, there's no ear-splitting cry of an Archdemon and, more-over, that song is gone." A small chuckle escaped him and as faint as it was, it wasn't without humor. "And, on top of all that, I got tired traipsing around Haven the other day. So I really do think it's gone." He turned back to Hawke with a lopsided smile. "Maybe I simply had too many qualifiers and one of them had to go, can't be a possessed apostate spirit healer, a renegade grey warden, the most hated revolutionary of this age, and...whatever I am now."

'Herald of Andraste.' He felt about that title about how his worst critics did.

"I don't know, there's others with more titles than that. Take your Leliana for example. Or Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, Princess of Nevarra, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine." Varric may have been fairly specific in his initial letter warning them about the Seeker looking for Wolfe. If Adalwolfe didn't know any better, he might have thought Varric was font of this Cassandra in that he was so interested in her personal details.

Adalwolfe resettles himself against the chair, not regretting that earlier sudden need for contact but certainly regretting that they hadn't used the bed instead. The floor is cold and he's getting too old to make getting back up any easier. "Maybe your mark is drowning it out but it still worries me, especially if the Wardens as a whole are still hearing it. If all the Wardens go at once..."

He trails off, not wanting to follow that train of thought but certain that Anders knows where it leads regardless.

Anders looks back over to Hawke and moves to his side again. He reaches down with both hands to help hoist his boyfriend back up off the floor. Once he's up, Anders' arm wraps behind Hawke's hips and his hand curls at the side of his lover's neck.

"I didn't tell you about going to the conclave because I didn't want you hurt or arrested by association with me, I knew you'd want to protect me no matter the cost and I feel the same way about you, I wanted you safe, even if it meant I'd never see you again. But you're here now, love. You came to find me even still, I'll continue to worry for your safety and whatever danger might come calling for you even with the Inquisition, but we are together now. If there's one thing I've learned over the past three years of it only being the two of us, it's that we can weather anything that comes for us. Even the Wardens. Even whatever this mark is, even the damn Calling if we need to."

He leaned in to kiss Adawolfe, both of their lips a little rough and chapped from the cold, but it was still gentle and slow. Anders didn't feel half as confident as his words conveyed, but he hoped he could at least half convince Wolfe and maybe it would convince himself the rest of the way too.

He pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. "What do you say? Will you stay with me, even with these new perils?" His lips quirked up in a slim smirk. "Or, I suppose, we could run away together, slip out and escape this new responsibility." They wouldn't, Hawke was like Anders in that way, if someone needed help, they'd be there. Unfortunately, the 'someone' here was the entirety of Thedas, Maker save them. Besides, Leliana's people would spot them before they made it to the wilder parts of Haven to be sure, that woman was terrifyingly sharp.

It's the same weak argument and Adalwolfe just sighs as Anders gives it again. He can't protect Hawke, that's something that Adalwolfe has always thought was true even if he's rarely said anything of the sort. He doesn't mean in battle, but protecting him from perception, protecting him from the masses that already know what happened thanks to Varric's book. They're already in this together but Anders can never seem to see it. Instead he just tries to smile, tries to carry on with the bits that he doesn't see a need to argue with. Yes he will protect Anders no matter the cost, yes Anders feels the same. They want each other safe.

He'd fight every darkspawn himself if it means keeping Anders from his Calling. He lets that feeling fuel the heat of the kiss, much warmer than the weather outside.

"You know full well I'm not going anywhere now that I've got you again. We can't run, either. People will die, of demons from these rifts or worse. Do we even know what caused the explosion at the Conclave?"

Try as he might, he can tell his words fell short and he supposed it was inevitable they would. There was a new break between them he could feel, similar to those weeks and months after Kirkwall but, thankfully, not nearly as wide and deep. They needed some time. Anders had abandoned Hawke without warning, likely to be arrested or killed or worse and he'd intended to let Hawke find out second hand.

He tries to let the thought drift back away from the front of things where it felt more desperate and focused on the question instead.

Anders' expression twisted into frustrated confusion as he pulled away again and looked to his hand, the green glow raising up again from the jagged mark on his palm. "We don't know. If I saw it, I can't remember it. Solas says he doesn't believe it was any sort of magic we might recognize, but it was too massive and too...destructive to be anything man-made. Maker, at least, I hope not."

A shudder ran through him as the memories of the twisted and still-burning victims of the Conclave seared through his mind. "I'm hoping..I don't know, maybe there will be some clue when we finally, fully, close the rift."

Edited 2017-04-18 21:37 (UTC)

"My first though was Qunari Blackpowder but even that wouldn't cause a tear in the Fade," Hawke muses, letting that white lie sound like the truth. It was his second thought, the first being that Anders had actually done it. He'd wrestled with that for some time, trying to point out that Anders wouldn't destroy the free mages who went to the Conclave like that, especially not after whatever happened at the previous one at the White Spire. Trying to tell himself that Anders' goal here was to atone, not further push the conflict. They'd stayed out of it for the last year, once all the Circles they could get to had been freed or dealt with. But a traitorous part of him, the part that looks at things too logically and focuses on the dark parts of men's natures, thought that maybe Anders' - or Vengeance's - anger was too great and had finally consumed him.

He lets that go, watching the thought sink under the proverbial bridge like so many other things.

"I'm coming with you when you do, obviously. One more mage to help with Fade stuff is going to be an asset. I'm sure I can make my case to that lot." He waves his hand in the vague direction of the Chantry building, referring to the women who had been in audience when he'd marched in. Cullen hardly counts; they'd already established long ago that his authority means virtually nothing to Hawke.

Anders gives a small, tight smile.

"You don't need to convince anyone. Leliana and Josephine are very practical and they'll see the benefit of having you along. Cassandra hardly counts as well, she's been wanting you here from day one, don't be surprised if she asks for your opinion. The Commander' opinion doesn't really matter in this either, he doesn't dictate who I take with me where. Really, his role is just to deal with the army, not whatever I do."

For once. It's a sour thought that darkens his expression for a moment but he releases it intentionally and takes a deep breath to steady the wave of...negativity that surges up in the back of his mind.

Being around Cullen was difficult for more than one reason. For one, they didn't agree on quite a few things that they both felt passionate about. For another thing, a lot of the bad Anders could remember, from Kinloch Hold to Kirkwall, was stirred up and brought to the forefront whenever he saw the former Templar. It often caused Justice to surge in him and make him feel like a continual hum was vibrating his head and chest.

Despite their history, they'd actually managed to remain civil to each other. At least so far. But that didn't mean they'd spent a significant amount of time 'hanging out' either. Anders had swung by the training grounds a few times to talk, and some of their conversations had even been about something other than the Inquisition...but only perhaps twice.

"I wish it didn't, but the Inquisition will need your help, Hawke." Maker, he wished it didn't, it would put Hawke in more danger and bring back the need for the Champion of Kirkwall. The Champion of Kirkwall and the Herald of Andraste...even if the Inquisition didn't need the Champion, they'd be getting him while Anders was there. It was his own fault Hawke was in danger again.

"Naturally," Adalwolfe waves a hand, pronouncing the word loftily as if he doesn't have any doubts when in actuality he can't imagine why anyone would want him to lead anything. Every time anyone ever brings up that notion he has to wonder if the world's gone mad. Though now, with a glowing green crack in the sky, maybe it has.

The silence after that word goes on just a little bit too long and Wolfe clears his throat.

"Should I return you to your retainers? Or do you think they expect us to be a bit longer?" His hand returns to Anders' side, slipping under his coat to do it. Wolfe has always thought the round-ring fastenings on Anders' coat were hardly practical to keeping out the chill, but with his ability to creep his hands easily inside said coat, he does find them practical for other things. Not that he feels particularly amorous at the moment, it's just... how Anders left, how he'd thought his love dead, a charred body among many. Adalwolfe needs this, he needs to feel Anders solidly beside him, under his hands, taking up space in his life so know that there isn't just a hole there that's molded to his shape.

"You can introduce me properly to your Inquisition later," he whispers against Anders' neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there and warming it from the mountain's cold with his breath.

'Your Inquisition' are some of the most terrifying words he's ever heard. It was Leliana's and Cassandra's Inquisition. Being 'The Herald of Andraste' was the only thing he could think of that scared him more and he'd had no say in it. Blessed and cursed in equal measure...he might not wish Wolfe here, but Maker save them, he didn't think he could do this without him, either.

"They can wait. They can't decide who to approach next...but they know who I would choose." His voice drifted off, already a little breathy under Hawke's lips as Anders tilted his head back for easier access. This first. He needed this first and then he could put his mind back to their efforts. Redoubled with his love at his side.

The kiss is sweet and almost chaste for how Wolfe pulls away just after to furrow his brow at Anders. "Approach for help? I'm surprised all of Thedas hasn't sent some sort of-"

He cuts himself off, the reminder of just what sort of world they live in catching up with him all at once. "Nevermind, I'm not actually that surprised. Who's on the list, then?"

Anders can't help the slight flare of disappointment when Wolfe pulls away. He was more than ready to not think about business for a while, but he knew his love, he'd be too distracted by wanting to know what field they were on before anything more intimate could come up. Besides, Anders hardly deserved it considering the stress he'd put Hawke under.

He leaned in for another (selfish) kiss, then took Wolfe by the hand so they could sit at the small table in the cabin. Even once they were sitting, however, he didn't release Wolfe's hand.

"You'd think they'd want help, considering the sky is broken, but it seems people are ever as impractical. For that hole in the sky, the others think we should either approach the rebel mages to pour more magic into the mark so that it's strong enough to close the rift, or approach the templars holed up in their corners to weaken the magic in the rift itself." Anders sighed a bit, that weight that had settled on him since he'd woken up and walked outside to find half of Haven staring at him, settling back in. "Cullen has a point, the templars likely could accomplish such a thing, but the fact I'd be the one approaching them when I'm the most hated mage in all of Thedas makes the idea laughable. I suspect they know it's not workable, but considering we have so few avenues of aid, they don't want to take it entirely off the table."

If they'd even make the decision. This group...they debated and argued so much...it seemed the only thing they'd managed to -barely- agree on, was to include him in the decision making instead of just sending him where they needed him. He had a sinking suspicion the decision would end up in his hands in the end anyway.

"If they're really as Maker-fearing as they say they are, they'll follow you if you're Andraste's Herald." He says this with irony, knowing that templars aren't so much Maker-fearing as mage-fearing on the whole. "No, the mages would be better. They'll listen to you, first of all. Or some of them anyway. And it could earn them amnesty and a chance to show they can use their magic to serve man in the spirit of the Chant and not the Chantry."

Wolfe lets that sink in for a moment, lets the conversation go back to the cause. Yes there are more pressing matters in that the sky has cracked open and Maker knows what is seething green on the other side, but that doesn't mean they can't try to help in such a way as to further their endeavor as well. Anders is in a position to do so much more good then they ever could even when they were traveling the Marches and further to push Circles to join the rebellion. A rebellion that's gotten more mages killed than saved, if Adalwolfe has any true guess. Maybe this Inquisition can bring a peace with it.

There's not just that either. He wants Carver far away from this and were the Templars called to help, he knows his brother would be first in line to heed the call. Not through any sort of chase for glory - not anymore - but because it's what should be done for the good of all. Bless him, but he'd not see the danger. No, best leave him out to sea with Isabela chasing whatever lie they'd come up with to get him to go. Best keep the Templars out of notoriety altogether lest word get back to the younger Hawke and spur him to seek out the Inquisition himself. Maker's breath, that might be the end of Adalwolfe if it came to pass.

It's the right thing to ask the mages even without his personal doubts, but he can't help the bit of nagging doubt that wonders if they really do need Templars to fight against magic in this case... and the stakes are too high to fail.

He weaves his fingers between Anders', rubbing his thumb against the freckles on the back of his love's hand. "Who's leading the rebel mages now?"

"Enchanter Fiona. She has a good head on her shoulders and she's been a voice of reason in the circles for some time now. There's also a rumor she has some history of working with the Wardens for something, but I don't know how much of that is true. Jospehine said she'd look into it."

The thought reminded him of Blackwall and, consequently, Leliana's concern about the Warden's involvement with the Conclave. He almost wished Blackwall was a true Warden, if only for the insight he could provide. Anders had told him he would keep the secret as long as Blackwall eventually told him why he was even keeping it someday, but he wondered if Hawke actually had to count in that. Maybe later, if it even mattered.

"When I go back in there, if they still haven't made a decision, I'll make it for them. We were technically invited there by Fiona, unlike the templars who closed the door in our faces in Val Royeaux, so it makes the most sense. Even beyond my personal preferences. Besides, the Warden-Commander mentioned Arl Emon was a very reasonable man and she helped them before, perhaps the Warden angle will come in handy."

Which...was another thing...the taint. He should mention that too, there was no way Wolfe would know just by looking at him. Maybe he'd be able to pick it up in the coming nights as Anders' sleep went uninterrupted by nightmares of blight and darkspawn, but it would likely be more appreciated as something told than discovered. It was just a matter of how. So far, only Leliana and Blackwall even knew.

"It should, especially in Ferelden considering it's your Warden Commander's accomplishment that the country is even still standing." Wolfe leans back in his chair, his free arm perched along the back while leaving his other hand still entwined with Anders'. "Varric mentioned the Seeker was looking for the Hero of Ferelden alongside me in his letter. Did she find her?"

He's curious to meet her actually. Has been ever since he learned her surname was the same as his, and a mage to boot. He'd always assumed his and Bethany's magic had come from their father but if it had come from the nobility side instead... well, it doesn't really mean anything honestly, but it is a curious coincidence that he's interested in finding out more about. He doesn't expect the the Seeker has located the Warden though, otherwise she'd likely be here.

"Nevermind, she likely would have been in the chantry with the others if she'd been here so my guess is no. As for Enchanter Fiona, it's probably best to stop dallying and make the trek to Redcliff before the war gets someone killed. I propose you march back into that room and use your newfound authority to do some good."

You know. In a minute. When he can bring himself to let go of his love's hand.

Just as Wolfe was going back on the question, Anders shook his head. Cassandra hadn't been successful in finding Warden-Commander Amell, just as she hadn't had a clue how to find Hawke himself. She'd tried to press it out of Anders himself, even, but he'd been steadfast in his refusal to give Wolfe over to the Seeker. Even once she'd sweared she only want to contact him for the good of Thedas, he hadn't budged. Wolfe was here now, but Anders still hoped his old commander and friend could stay out of this. She deserved some peace, they both did.

"Yes, you're probably right. We had to dispatch both the mages and templars fighting on the king's road through the Hinterlands, just to make the land safe again for those uninvolved. I don't want to keep seeing that bloodshed."

He could feel the surge in him that pressed for action. The need for that direction, briefly set aside by Hawke's arrival, now back in the center with Wolfe's own support. Justice couldn't abide by this any more than he could. Clearing out the rebel mage encampment had been painful, but even when he'd demanded their peace, they hadn't listened, so desperate to fight any who crossed their path. Even one of their own.

Anders nodded and stood. "I'll go now. There'll still be a day of preparation before we leave. I should go now to ensure we can leave as soon as possible. Thank you, love." For showing up, for granting this moment of reprieve, for putting him back on the path he should be on.

Dragon Age: Inquisition: Anders Inquisitor AU

Haven; news of the Herald spreads

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