makinglies | Duplicity AU: Justice for a General

Anders considered that a moment, then shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but Justice's existence doesn't exhaust me on principle. He can make me work too long or too hard because spirits don't have a concept of time or rest, but the not sleeping well came before him. It just made it worse, I'll admit. He can...take too much from me, sometimes, but he doesn't do it maliciously. We help each other."

Most of the time. Not when Justice attacks someone who matters as much as Alaric does.

He shifted the focus, gesturing to the water. "Do you need longer in here or should we get out? You said you were tired, yes? I imagine even more so now."

Edited 2020-10-02 22:36 (UTC)

"I meant that the inability to not pursue his objectives and trying to fit your own life around those must be exhausting. Not that his existence alone was draining."

He has serious, serious doubts about how much they help one another. Serious doubts.

He was going to refrain from mentioning those, but instead stands up and steps out of the tub, reaching for a towel. Which he offers to Anders. "I am... more invigorated than tired now, actually." Very, very wry humor around that one.

"Ah...well...yes. It can be difficult. Though, usually, we are in agreement on what should be done." And when they weren't, well, Alaric saw the result.

Anders sets the tub to drain and stands as well, taking the towel with a wry smile. "Well, doesn't that figure. How about some light food, then? We'll change the order of things, once we've found some clothes."

He wrapped the towel about his waist then paused, hesitating only a moment, before he reached out to run the tips of his fingers down the side of Alaric's face to his jaw, expression clouded. He knew Alaric didn't approve of Justice, that was painfully obvious in the various things he said, he'd heard what was said while Justice was in control, too. He just didn't know what to do about it when Alaric's resulting reaction wasn't to simply shut Anders out or turn on him.

Unless this was just out of convenience. They'd only just signed together, by all rights, he was likely just biding his time, trying to smooth things over until he could leave. Anders certainly wouldn't blame him. Yes, that was probably it and he could accept that.

He was watchful and cautious when Anders reached for him, but he did not back away and once the touch was there he relaxed a little more, turned toward it and his eyes slid closed with less reserve than usual. There was the barest brush of his lips against Anders' fingers, too.

Like maybe he still needed that - or even needed it even more than he had.

Because all the reasons he had were still there and now there was that magical attack and knowledge, too.

"I think maybe a hot drink. Or an alcoholic one. Or both?"

Alaric's response made warmth fill him more than the bathwater could ever hope to and Anders chased that feeling with a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. When he straightened, however, his expression lit up.

"Oh! Wait, I think I remember a drink Varric once mentioned...it's tea but you put some whiskey or rum in it. I think there's some bourbon left behind I could use."

Not for him, he wasn't even sure why he'd let Dean leave it when Anders couldn't even enjoy any of the effects of the drink thanks to Justice. The taste would be nice, though.

He took Alaric's hand and lead him into his room, opting to help him with dressing before he would go find his own clothes. "I'll get the kettle on and then I could help you brush your hair, if you like?"

He truly just wanted to have physical contact. He would accept that in help dressing, in having his hair sorted, in--

He'd accept it in anything. "I don't want you to have to put the kettle on, but I do not entirely trust or understand how to use the stove so that may be for the best."

Then he realized the other bit had been an offer, not a statement. "You handling my hair would certainly be. I'm almost tempted to cut it." Almost.

"I'll admit, it's not my favorite either, but I haven't found a safe way to balance the thing over the fireplace yet either, so it'll have to do for now." He'd definitely burned...a lot of things his first month here.

Anders looked over at Alaric's hair, contemplating it. "If it bothers you, I certainly won't stop you. I think it looks nice." And it gave him an excuse to touch more if he got to help Alaric brush it.

"Grab the brush and meet me in the living room." He shot Alaric a smile and left to go find some pants to throw on and run his own brush through his hair once. Once that was done, he went in to put on the kettle and set out some mugs with a finger of bourbon in each and those strange teabag things before returning to the living room himself.

"We probably won't actually starve." There were a lot of options to avoid cooking here, at least. Even for them who were possibly two of the least equipped to take care of themselves people in the city, between technology differences and lack of knowledge to even transfer.

He left Anders to get the brush, went into the living room and took his mug of tea, and put the hairbrush down on the couch. Before sitting down on the floor in front of it, so his back would be to Anders for it to be brushed.

"Can you talk about Justice without... that happening again?"

He sat with the hair brush in hand, his own mug to the side, already largely forgotten for now. Gently, he worked from the ends of Alaric's hair and up, it was slower, but better for longer hair. At least, that was what he remembered Dane telling Nate when the archer fought with his own long hair.

"...I can. If you'd like. Everything going on outside and then finding you like that...he was already agitated. Through him, I can feel there's something wrong in the city. A magical energy that's putting things off, I'm just not sure what. Anyway, when Justice is agitated, my anger bleeds into him and he can be sensitive about certain things." Like being called a demon.

"You must understand, turning into a demon is probably his greatest fear, I don't think it's unfair to be upset about that, though his reaction was too much, it's not acceptable that he threatened you."

He was a little wary of the conversation - wary in a physical sense - but he had broached it for a reason and that reason was that he saw value in having it.

For now his priority was simply in gaining information. Which he had to remind himself of rather than say he didn't think there was anything that he must understand about that encounter.

He simply did not respond to it at all. Intentionally chose not to challenge beliefs, yet, because he would not get information if he did.

Alaric tilted his head down so Anders could reach his hair more easily and sipped his tea.

"How did you become friends?"

"I hope you're ready for a longer story, but I'll try to keep it to the details." He let the work of his hands keep his mind focused and even Justice seemed to shirk from the incoming story.

"When I was twenty-five, I was on escape attempt eight when I was offered a chance to join a group called the Grey Wardens by their leader and the land's new queen, Dane Cousland. She made the offer in order to save me from a group of templars who'd come to collect me and wanted me dead. I'm sure she would have let me avoid The Joining if I'd truly wanted to, but the Grey Wardens are the only way a mage may be free outside the circle and they're considered great heroes for defending the land from ancient monsters called darkspawn. I didn't see a reason to say no.

"I took the joining and followed the Warden-Commander for half a year. In that time, we were on the trail of a missing Warden named Kristoff, that trail lead us to Blackmarsh where there were evil magics about, poisoning the land. In our efforts to end the magic, we were trapped in the Fade, the land of spirits and the source of all mage's magic. While we were there, we found the source of the evil in the form of a Pride demon tormenting the land's villagers whose souls were also trapped there. Defending the villagers, we found a spirit of Justice who'd seen the demon's actions and took offense. We sided with him and fought the demon together, but the resulting magical surge threw all of us out of the Fade, including Justice. He was thrown into the nearest available body...which happened to be Kristoff's corpse."

He paused as he finished with Alaric's hair and set the brush aside, replacing it with his fingers. Just to be sure.

"He was stuck outside of the Fade, so he decided to travel with us, finding our cause a worthy one. We got to know each other more and talked a bit. We were as much brothers-in-arms as I was with any of the others." A heaviness settled in his chest and he gave a small sigh. "Anyway, the queen had to return to the capital at some point, so a replacement from another country came in and took over. He flipped everything over and separated my group. He didn't know what to do with a possessed corpse and he didn't trust me since I was a mage, so he'd send us out to do missions with some new recruits he'd had join. A group of templars who 'wanted a new course in life.' They made it very clear they were there for me."

He felt that stirring, anger from Justice at the memory, the betrayal, the pain of having the people who were supposed to be his family throw him to the dogs-

"One day, while we were out, the match didn't go very well. The templars cut down Kristoff's body and, in a great shock, turned on me. He offered to help. Neither of us had a choice."

He listened quietly, soothed on a physical level by Anders working at his hair. There remained a bit of tension - focus of a particular sort, watching for signs that Justice would take over again - but for the most part he was simply quiet and listening.

He tried to listen without judgement, but he was not entirely successful. The story and explanation were clear enough, but-

He had so many of his own associations and views that he could not entirely remove them. Not only religious ones - he was far from a good Catholic - but ones involving corpses animated by magic. And, of course, spirits he could see on rare occasions, of various sorts. Mostly when he was a child.

He leaned a bit more back and continued on with his tea when Anders moved from brush to hands, and stayed quiet even a little beyond the end of the story.

"Do either of you have a choice now?"

"No."

There's sadness in his voice, guilt. They'd accomplished something together...whether it was good or bad he...couldn't afford to think about yet, but it would affect the course of history either way. And yet, if he could take it all back...perhaps.

"Once a mage is possessed, there's no way to separate him from the spirit or demon possessing them. According to the Chantry, the only option is death."

There isn't a lot in his voice. That is part of why he has reverted to soft spoken. It is so much easier to disguise and limit what emotion is conveyed when your voice is low.

In truth, he isn't sure if that answer comes to him as a relief or a disappointment.

"What will happen to Justice when you die?"

His mind went back to the Chantry steps, the crate under him, digging into the back of his legs. The smell of ash and fire, the sky sickeningly orange with both. There were screams and cries and that was their doing. But it had to be worth it. It had to be or else...they really were only an abomination.

'The people fear us for what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! If I pay for that with my life, then I pay. Perhaps then, Justice would at least be free.'

His own words ring out to him and he shook his head, though he knew it went unseen. "Perhaps he'd go back to the Fade, or simply die as well."

"So he wouldn't... simply continue to use your body?" Like that other poor man's?

These probably were not the questions he should be asking, but they were the most pressing ones for him. He wanted to understand. He needed to try to understand what he was dealing with.

Because no, he wasn't leaving. He has never left anyone he had committed himself to in his life, and the contract? It might have been impulsive and it might be new but it counted.

Edited 2020-10-03 19:53 (UTC)

Anders paused. He didn't actually have an answer to that and the rush of unease he felt he couldn't even fully attribute to either himself or Justice. "No, I don't think he would. He didn't particularly like inhabiting Kristoff's."

He thought about the merits of even bringing this part up, decided it might help. "When he was in Kristoff's body, he could...remember a few things from when Kristoff was alive, like what his mission was with the Wardens and the love he'd felt for his wife. I don't think he'd want to go through that again." Another pause. "Do you want up here on the couch or do you intend to stay down there?"

"That sounds as though it could be a ...painful reminder for him?" Or just inconvenient? He was trying not to make Justice re-emerge, to be honest. At least for the rest of the night, he hoped.

For both their sakes, but he'd deal with it again if he had to. Even immediately.

He considered the question of where he wanted to be without saying anything, then pivoted and climbed not onto the couch but onto Anders' lap, facing him again and with such delicate precision he didn't even tip over Anders' apparently untouched mug of tea.

"I think so." He hoped so...it wasn't like they could talk beyond the feelings and thoughts that felt like his own but weren't always. He liked to think that Justice would be sorry to have him gone and not that he'd see it as being freed from his in-house jailer.

He didn't get to sink too much further into that thought before he suddenly had his lap (and consequently arms) full of Alaric. Not what he'd been expecting, but something he appreciated. "You're obscenely graceful, you know that, right? It's rather attractive, I won't lie to you." He bought his arms around behind Alaric, one of his hands lightly stroking at his back where it happened to rest. "So...I'm possessed by a spirit and that's...workable for you, then? Or is this your way of letting me down easy?"

He was pretty settled down against Anders, almost immediately. That left him pulling back a bit to make a glib remark about his level of gracefulness and things he found obscenely attraction.

Anders' question however caught him entirely unprepared.

His expression went black with surprise, but quickly turned to faint but undeniable confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. It is. I don't understand what workable means given that, and I certainly don't understand why I would want to let you down?"

He couldn't help the slightly derisive huff of laughter, though it was wry and directed at himself more than Alaric. "Sorry, it's just that this is usually the part where people condemn me or curse my name or try to find sharp things to remove the threat or...really a few options, but not usually sit in my lap and continue to be kind and close to me."

There was something a little more open, a little more vulnerable when he looks up at Alaric. "I just want to make sure you're sure that you don't want to avoid, hate, or fear me. Now's the time to say so." Rather a swift and understandable break now than one that comes after he's let hope and affection line his heart thicker than what was already there.

He could, he thought, actually try to soften things. He could also try to deflect. He respected Anders too much to do either of those things. His voice was quiet and relatively gentle, but he didn't pull punches.

"I do not hate or wish to avoid you. I have no desire to attack you with a sharp object. I am afraid. A good deal of my fear is for you, though not all of it. I do not like the idea of being forced to risk harming you to defend myself from Justice."

Because affection would grow, and loyalty, but he was not going to not.

Anders nodded, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly. That really wasn't all that different from what he'd just lived with for the last seven six years. Most of his...Hawke's friends didn't like him, some of them used to, before, but he knew they were all at least a little on edge. They fought with him at their backs, they let him heal them, they played Wicked Grace with him at the Hanged Man and complained when he usually won. Every single one of them knew where their weapons were at a moment's notice in case 'the abomination' stopped being docile. He wasn't even sure he could blame them, especially after the Alrik debacle.

"I can live with that if you can. I don't want to put you in that position either, but I am glad you'll defend yourself. I will always do what I can to put your safety over my comfort as long as you're with me, I hope you know that or, at least, can learn it."

One arm still firmly around Alaric's back, the other abandoned it's post to trail up and gently stroke Alaric's cheek. He shouldn't do that. He also shouldn't wish to kiss him, but that one he could at least resist in deference to what his friend had already been through today.

"I'm sorry, but I think I must admit that I would very much like to kiss you, if I may."

Well...mostly resist.

He was conflicted and that showed in a slightly frustrated expression and the fact that he laughed, but his laugh came out a touch strangled. There was warmth there all the same, but--

He had things to say about that level of prioritization.

Then again, maybe he shouldn't say them. Even if he wasn't reluctant to risk derailing the hand on his face and offer of (request for) a kiss. He might be able to use that later.

So, he decided to let that particular thing go and answered the 'request'.
"Yes, please." He curled his fingers around Ander's neck, leaned in and kissed him. Soft and light, but not confident or unsure. Just giving Anders an answer and waiting on Anders to (he hoped) kiss back.

It wasn't a fair position to put someone into, but the situation wasn't fair. He wasn't fair, he'd known that all his life. It was part of being with him, in any sense of that word.

He almost thought something might be said about it, but instead Alaric said yes and that was all that mattered. Said yes and initiated which put a flutter in Anders' heart like he was a teenager again and kissing his crush for the first time behind a bookcase. He didn't have to be quite so careful here.

He pressed back, the hand at Alaric's cheek slipping into his hair instead to pull him close. It was chaste, but it was heated, a certain level of need to it that gave too much away for how much just that meant to him. His affections ran too deep and sank in too easy. Not for everyone, but for certain someones...once his heart had decided, there was little his mind (or Justice) could do. For just a moment, he forgot it was better if he didn't do this to them.

When they parted again, Anders didn't go far, just pressed another kiss to the corner of Alaric's mouth. "Thank you."

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