#Justice x Fenris x Anders
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Arlathan Exchange Reveals!
I can finally show the monster I’ve been writing for @potatowitch.
My attempt to write Justice x Fenris x Anders. I’ve never tackled Justice, I often ignore him because I find him difficult but this time I wanted him to be a real part of the relationship. I feel good about how this fic turned out.
Summary:
It's him. His voice. He desperately wanted the healer to be him, but what he isn't prepared for is how painful it is to actually see him. The recognition feels like a knife, pain cramping through his stomach. "Anders."
Anders and Fenris used to have a purely physical relationship. Anders disappears after he blew up the chantry, and after a while, Fenris realises that he made a mistake in pushing him away.
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Chapters: 8/8
Rating: Mature (could be E?)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Anders/Fenris/Justice (Dragon Age), Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Additional Tags: after chantry boom, mentions of abuse, Threat of slavery, Second Chance Romance, after only physical relationship, Fenris has to open up, Anders has to stop thinking of himself as unworthy, Angst, Happy Ending, Trapped, Emotions are Complicated, people need some fucking therapy in Thedas
#fenders#justfenders#Fenris x Anders#Justice x Fenris x Anders#dragon age#dragon age fanfiction#fenders fic#justfenders fic#my writing#this is 20k!
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ship opinion bingo! fenris/justice, anders/amell, and sigrun/velanna 👀
Fenris/Justice is just delicious, and I need more fics that explore the tenderness and understanding that could should exist between them. Also hngnnnnnn at the whole concept of Fenris letting go and trusting someone so much stronger than him.
Anders/Amell is, well . . . we've all read at least some of Accursed Ones, right? Anders/HoF was the first ship I really got interested in enough to start truly writing again (though it was Anders/F!tabris). I love/hate how things have to end, or at least be put on pause, in order for Anders to leave the Wardens, but I firmly believe almost any Warden Commander loves Anders dearly, and that goes triple for a mage. Anders escaped the Circle SEVEN TIMES and is absolutely a legend and a hero in Amell's eyes, full stop.
Sigrun/Velanna are fucking canon, fight me (please don't, actually, I'll cry). Maybe they threeple or poly it up with others as well, but they're definitely in lesbians with each other.
#asks and answers#shipping bingo#shipping#dragon age#Fenris x Justice#anders x amell#velanna x sigrun
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Should my Hawke fuck Justice, Fenris, or Anders in this fic? She dates all three (separately, no way Fenris or Anders could be anything but grudging metamours looking out for the well-being of their mutual girlfriend in Kirkwall) so they're all options.
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IT IS COMPLETE!!!!! At long last!!!
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Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: Explicit
Characters: Isabela, Fenris, Zevran, Anders, Justice
Main Relationships: Zevran/Isabela/Fenris/Anders/Justice (and various subdivisions thereof)
Genre: Fluff & Light Angst
Word Count: 7653
Content Warnings: Semi-explicit sex in ch. 2
Summary: So many polyamory negotiations surrounding Zevran’s big career change!
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43707280
#fenris#isabela#zevran#anders#justice#how the HECK do we tag that polycule#justfenders#isabela x zevran x fenris#isabela x fenris x anders x justice#zevran x isabela x fenris x anders x justice#and so on and so forth???#lime#nuri writes#(most of the fic)#mulch writes#(ch. 4)
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On International Family Day, we are celebrating the unique bond of 'found family' that is central to the world of Dragon Age.
Family isn't just about blood; it's the people who stand by your side and who you choose to surround yourself with. Our companions stand with us in the face of darkspawn and demons, share in our victories and struggles, and make Thedas feel like home.
Image credits (From Twitter/X unless otherwise specified):
Alistair by Eriartdotnet
Leliana by Kalaelizabeth
Zevran by LarkOneironaut
Morrigan by Itsmerhi
Oghren by Aristotem
Wynne by Geirahod
Mabari by MelonaDraws
Loghain by _ChevalierLogan
Sten by BonkS0undEffect
Shale by Elefluff
Nathaniel by Hanatsuki89
Justice by Drathe90
Anders by Llysaan
Carver by _Eleonorp
Bethany by GreenfinchG
Aveline by Matchamori
Sebastian by Matthewyeez
Isabela by Fae Merrill by IAmClarex2
Fenris by Loustica_Lucia
Tallis by Kiwi_Pon
Cassandra by KharisKreations
Varric by Haverdoodles
Solas by ElbenherzArt
Iron Bull by Tsukioreo
Dorian by TrashWarden
Josephine by Bbquinn_
Sera by Inquisibrenda
Cullen by magicaltia (Insta)
Vivienne by LazareGvimradze
Cole by Vyrkolach
Blackwall by Mogwaei
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SweetMage's DA Writing Prompt List
Hi! I am making this little prompt list in anticipation of joining the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle. Below the cut you'll find all of my OCs/Ships (platonic, romantic, and familial), some TWs and disclaimers, and some sample writing prompts but feel free to come up with some of your own prompts or ask me for more info! :)
WARNING: There are some 18+ prompts!
Things with ❤ are preferred this week!
Characters:
Edan Cousland | Inquisitor!Edan Cousland
Garrett Hawke (purple mage) | Inquisitor!Garrett Hawke
Anders (and Justice)
Sebastian Vael
Ser Roderick Gilmore (loosely based on the NPC companion mod but with my own characterization/HCs)
Niall (from the Circle Mage Origin/Fade Quest. Will write him post-DA2 in an AU where he survived mostly!)
Meeran (DA2 mercenary leader. Will probably write him in my dystopian/cyberpunk AU version of DA2)
Romantic Ships (SFW or NSFW is okay!):
❤Purple Mage M!Hawke/Anders
❤Edan Cousland/Ser Roderick Gilmore
Celestine (non-Hawke OC)/Sebastian
Purple Mage M!Hawke/Anders/Justice
❤Niall/Orsino (Post-DA2, both alive OR during DA2 where Niall is sent on an assignment from the Kinloch hold)
Platonic/Familial Ships (SFW Only):
❤Anders & Edan Cousland
❤Purple Mage M!Hawke & Any of the DA2 cast
❤Anders & Varric (DA2 or DAI time period)
❤Garrett & Marian Hawke (twin!Hawke AU)
❤Garrett and/or Anders & their son Victor (AU where trans!Garrett/Anders had a biological son during DA2 act 2)
Edan & Any of the DAO or DAA cast
Inquisitor Edan & any of the DAI, DAO, or DAA cast
Inquisitor Hawke & any of the DAI or DA2 cast
Orsino & Anders
Sample Prompt Lists:
Please do not request: Not used to freedom, preventative measures not taken, reopening an old wound. I have gotten many of these!
*Starred prompts may contain triggering angst content
❤ * Bad Things Happen Bingo Card [SFW Angst]
* Old Whumptober Prompt List [SFW Angst]
❤Domesticity/Intimacy [SFW/NSFW Ship]
Old Sicktember Prompt List [SFW Hurt/Comfort]
Old Platonic Flufftober Prompt List [SFW Fluff]
Old Flufftober Prompt List [SFW Fluff or Angst]
❤Multi Category Smut Prompts (Vanilla, kinky, goofy, etc.) [NSFW Smut]
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TWs and Disclaimers:
- Fics about Edan may contain references or depictions of his lyrium addiction and resulting cognitive decline (memory issues, hallucinations, confusion, etc.) as that's a big part of his character.
- Fics about Roderick may contain mention of PTSD and past torture (mental/emotional/SA) at the hands of Rendon Howe as that is a part of his story.
- Fics about Anders might contain mention of self-harm, past abuse, and suicidal ideation
Like To Write:
- Trauma and/or Healing ❤
- Mental Illness Related Hurt/Comfort ❤
- Sappy Smut
- Silly/Awkward Smut ❤
- Hurt/Comfort Smut ❤
- Sweet/Romantic Scenes
- Domestic Life in Tough Situations (long distance like Edan/Ser Gilmore, Fugitives like Anders/Garrett, etc.)
- Hurt/Comfort
Prefer Not To Write/Won't Write:
- Anders Demonizing/Anti-Anders sentiments such as rivalmance, abuse from Hawke, death ending, him 'ruining' Justice, etc. (him facing opposition from characters like Fenris, Sebastian, various NPCs, etc. is 100% okay though!)
- Non-Canon Major Character Death (near death, Hawke/Warden in the Fade, or non-companion canon deaths like Leandra or the Cousland family are okay though!)
- Gratuitous Physical Torture
- Second Person/Character x Reader
- Modern AU/Coffee Shop AU/College AU or anything similar
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Happy Friday! How about “I’ve never noticed this scar before” from the couple prompts, for whoever suits your fancy?
Here’s some Merrill x Carver for @dadrunkwriting !
She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before. Merrill prided herself on her observational skill. She was the First of Clan Sabrae, and even though the word “was” stung like nettle spines the title was still a part of her, for Firsts had to be observant, Firsts had to know everything about their people, and maybe she wasn't of Clan Sabrae anymore, but Hawke and her band of people were close enough to a clan that Merrill found herself looking after them in her own way. She observed. She learned.
Anders, for example, suffered from dreadful headaches, the sort that would nearly incapacitate him if it weren't for Justice coming to the forefront on those days to ease that burden. Sebastian had a bum knee (the left one), and he was self-conscious about it. Aveline loved flowers. Varric could write with either of his hands. Isabela liked her food heavily spiced, the hotter the better. Fenris had a sweet tooth.
But this- Merrill frowned and looked at the broad expanse of Carver Hawke's back and the jagged scar that stretched across his right shoulder and bony shoulder blade. This she had not known, and that upset her.
"You're awfully quiet today," Carver remarked, though not unkindly. "Silver for your thoughts?"
"I... haven't any money on me at the moment, Carver," Merrill replied.
"It's a- don't worry about it. Free of charge," Carver insisted, gruff but once again, so very kind. Merrill hesitated. Carver had never mentioned suffering a grievous injury before- and this was truly dreadful, she could tell. He might be sensitive about it. Might not want to speak about it at all, even. But he had asked, and his expression was set in that funny way that he and Hawke shared. He wasn't going to move from that spot until she told him what was wrong.
"I've never noticed this scar before," Merrill finally said. "The one on your back."
"Got it at Ostagar. Was lucky I survived, truth be told. Don't talk about it much," Carver said easily enough.
"Yes, I know. It's only that..." Merrill sighed and tried to think of the best way to explain why the sight of the twisted scar tissue affected her so deeply.
"Keepers are supposed to know everything about their clan. They're there to help. And we may not all be a clan- not in the Dalish sense- but I'm still a First. That's a part of me. So to not know that you suffered so, that you're still in pain from it..." Merrill frowned. Shame was the best word to describe what she felt. She ought to have known. What sort of First didn't know of the injuries the members of her clan suffered? How was she to care for them if she didn't?
"Don't blame yourself," Carver ordered, as blunt as he ever was. "You can't know what you aren't told, and Marian says I'm a stubborn, sullen bastard at the best of times. You couldn't possibly have known."
"Well, I know now," Merrill decided, because Carver was right- if a little too nice about it. "Which means I will make sure that you're taking good care of that scar tissue. First we ought to make a poultice to improve flexibility- perhaps Anders can help with that- and then..." Merrill lost herself in the familiarity of planning, and missed the way that Carver's mouth curled up into a small, shy smile.
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I'd love to hear about your otps.
*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer within a certain amount of time or at all.*
I don't actually tend to have OTPs - I am an inveterate multishipper in almost all things. Even the X Files I have some side ships for. But here are a list of my most enduring and beloveds <3 the ones in bold are ones I've written for(not all are on my current AO3 and I will not deliver the name of my old FF.net to anyone ever)!
Nine/Jack/Rose(NuWho)
Jack Harkness/Ianto(Torchwood)
Jack Harkness/Gwen Jones(Torchwood)
Anders/Happiness(Dragon Age)
Anders/Justice(Dragon Age)
(here's an Obscure Rarepair that I've thought way too much about) Anders/Justice/Solas(Dragon Age)
Anders/Fenris(Dragon Age)
Anders/Nathaniel Howe(Dragon Age)
Anders/Karl Thekla(Dragon Age)
Shepard/Garrus(Mass Effect)
Shepard/Thane(Mass Effect)
Shepard/Tali(Mass Effect)
Ryder/Jaal(Mass Effect)
Ryder/Vetra(Mass Effect)
Mulder/Scully(X Files)
Mulder/Krycek(X Files)
Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter(NBC's Hannibal)
Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin(Aubreyad)
Jack Aubrey/Sophie Aubrey(nee Williams)(Aubreyad)
Diana Villiers/Stephen Maturin(Aubreyad)
Diana Villiers/Clarissa Oakes(Aubreyad)
Stephen Maturin/James Dillon(Aubreyad)
Horatio Hornblower/William Bush(Hornblower)(TV and books)
Horatio Hornblower/Sir Edward Pellew(Hornblower)(TV only)
Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy(Hornblower)(TV only)
Tenzing Tharkay/William Laurence(Temeraire)
John Granby/William Laurence(Temeraire)
Jane Roland/William Laurence(Temeraire)
(here come the crazy crossover rarepairs)
Jane Roland/Diana Villiers
Stephen Maturin/Horatio Hornblower
As you can see: crazyass multishipper. Many of these all sit in my head simultaneously in the same stories!
I guess my only real OTP is Hannigram, but thats less because I think its perfect and more because I think they should never involve anyone else in their dynamic ever for the sake of everyone else lmao
I hope surgery recovery is going well, and that you're getting back to your preferred level of Normal <3
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dadwc prompts and info
general info:
no character death
i prefer romantic or platonic
pls specify prompt list ur using
ot3/poly prompts welcome
general prompts:
rare/unusual words (mine, but feel rb/use it yourself!)
sentences
micro story (please send the word/phrase)
medieval/fantasy sentences
deep conversations
people who aren't used to kindness
vague prompts: eerie edition
quote prompts:
as said by cassandra pentaghast
as said by dorian pavus
as said by solas
as said by merrill
fluff/romance/smut prompts:
fluff
50 types of kisses
sleeping
cuddles and snuggles
smutfic (please send word/phrase)
angst/whump prompts:
what are you hiding from me?
eerie loneliness
heavy content (mine, but feel free to rb/use it yourself!)
patching up wounds
other prompts:
oc codex
fantasy setting
characters:
dai - solas | varric | cassandra | sera | dorian | the iron bull | cole | leliana | morrigan | cullen | josephine | calpernia | flemythal
da2 - anders(justice) | fenris | merrill
dao - leliana | morrigan
arlathan - mythal | andruil | ghilan'nain
relationships (ot3+ are welcome!):
solas x (nessa | velari | atros | valyris | varric | cassandra | cullen | bull | dorian | calpernia | mythal* | andruil* | ghilan'nain*)
anders x fenris
cassandra x (varric | sera | leliana | solas)
dorian x (feydis | bull | solas)
morrigan x (halcor | leliana)
sera x (delwyn | dagna | cassandra)
cullen x (dimitra | solas | dorian)
ghilan'nain x (andruil* | solas*)
*messy/complicated ships, might end up in dead dove territory
major ocs:
nessa lavellan (f!rogue, solas)
velari lavellan (f!mage, solas)
atros shiral (m!rogue; city elf!inquisitor, solas)
delwyn lavellan (f!rogue, sera)
valyris lavellan (f!mage, solas)
developing ocs:
feydis lavellan (m!mage, ? maybe dorian)
yene adaar (f!mage, solas)
dimitra (non-inky, f!mage(/templar), cullen)
halcor brosca (m!rogue warden, morrigan then nathaniel)
less developed ocs:
yene adaar (female; mage; solas)
yene is a driven vashoth who doesn't want anything to do with any of this, thank you very much. spends the early game looking for a way out but eventually realizes that because of the anchor, she's stuck here, at which point she starts making friends. planned solasmance bc i'm... immensely predictable. also he grows on her. this weird little elf guy who's obsessed with the fade and she's like. hm. i am charmed by the way u wax poetic about ur special interests.
halcor brosca (male; rogue; morrigan, then nathaniel)
my canon warden, and someone i haven't written in many years but have been thinking about again recently. very rough around the edges, blunt, practical. has a terrible habit of diving headfirst into danger. he's enamored of magic and trust(ed?) morrigan 100% on everything magical - he also performed the ritual with her, so kieran is his son, although he never met him. afterwards during awakening canon he ended up with nathaniel - a surprise, especially since he didn't even know he was into men as well, but late nights talking around the fire slowly became more.
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I finished a fic, can you believe it?
The infamous bounty hunter fic, Fenris x Anders. With bad guys and good guys and unexpected friends and horses with personalities. Come get your Yeehaw!
Summary:
Anders is a wanted man, and he's been on the run for a while now. But Fenris, a famous bounty hunter, catches him. His original plan of getting rid of the mage and collecting the bounty turns out to be more difficult than he thought. Complicated feelings develop when two deeply traumatized people try to fall in love.
Chapters: 24/24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Characters: Fenris (Dragon Age), Anders (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Qunari wife, Dorian Pavus, Cole (Dragon Age)
Additional Tags: Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts, Prostitution, Fenders, No Justice AU, bounty hunter AU, Idiots in Love, Poisoning, Needles, Cowboy Hats, Magictech, Blood and Injury, foes to hoes, canon has been nailed to the wall and painted over, Chantry Issues, Chantry Bashing (Dragon Age)
#fenders#Fenris#Anders#fenders fic#Fenris x Anders#dragon age#dragon age fanfiction#my writing#sunset sundown sunrise#bounty hunter AU
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from the smut prompts: “I need you. I need you both, right now.” for Anders/Fenris/Justice :3
OOF OKAY so I've wanted to try them for so loooong but have been intimidated by the wash of really, really talented justfenders writers out there... so here goes (thank you, honestly, I needed the shove).
for @dadrunkwriting
Rating: M
Words: 662
~~~
Fenris's first time with Justice felt curious, exploratory — Anders guided the way.
Hands plucked at the straps of his armour, sending it clinking to the ground beside the bed. Long fingers laced between his before tugging at the taloned claws of them. His gauntlets came loose — those same fingers pulled his hands up to a mouth that kissed every fingertip until his lyrium brands prickled and hummed.
"Do not open your eyes," came a voice — it thrummed with the tones of two.
Fenris chuckled. "I won't. I wasn't going to."
A disbelieving grunt, then a hum in a lower, rumbling voice. It was wholly Justice who then slid Fenris's fingers between his lips — Fenris caught his hand alight with a lewd moan.
Justice sucked his way off of Fenris's glowing fingers — the brightness of his own brands were like spiderwebbing lines through his closed lids — and set to work on the rest of his clothes. Fenris groaned deep in his chest as Justice's hands spread over the skin beneath his shirt.
"I don't mean to hurry you," he said through clenched teeth, "but I know it's you by the Fade running over your hands."
"You are trembling," Justice remarked, with no small amount of amusement. "Do I do that to you?"
Fenris hummed affirmatively, squirming under Justice's sudden weight atop him. He subconsciously searched for his mouth, and bit his lip when it was nowhere to be found.
"Is it because we are touching you?" asked the twinning voices, "or simply because I am spirit —" the voice was Justice's now —"painting along the lyrium lines in your skin?"
"Yes," Fenris panted, feeling the lines on his chest, around his nipples, burn with the slow, measured strokes of their hands. "Yes."
"Anders says you like this," Justice stated, rubbing his thumbs over Fenris's hardening nipples. Fenris arched up into his touch. "It seems he did not lie."
Fenris laughed quietly, disbelievingly, as he caught his breath. "Why would he?"
Justice was silent, focusing instead on ridding Fenris of his remaining clothes and settling atop him. It was strange to feel Anders' body against him, fully clothed, as his own skin lay bare — usually it was Anders beneath him, twisting and panting under the unrelenting attention of his fingers and mouth. Fenris gripped Anders' hips between his thighs.
"Want you," he finally ground out.
There was a little gasp, and Anders' hips rolled forward between Fenris's legs. Fenris was so hard he ached.
"Justice," he murmured, smoothing his hands down their sides and hooking his fingers beneath his coat, "please —"
His words cut off into a groan as they kissed him — the brands on his chin and throat sparked to life at the contact, and Justice moaned into his mouth. He chased the taste of lyrium into Fenris's mouth with his tongue.
When they pulled away, tasting of Fade and Anders and soft, happy sighs, Fenris chased after them. He rose up on one elbow, eyelids fluttering.
"Want to look at you," he gasped. "Can I?"
A thumb smoothed under one eye, then the other, as they cupped his face in their hands. "Open," they said.
Fenris looked at them.
The planes of Anders' face were familiar and dear in the darkness, lit as if from beneath by Justice's glow. His eyes, however, were amber and clear. They crinkled at the corners in a smile.
"I need you," Fenris finally said, his gaze darting between Anders' eyes. He pressed up as close as he physically could to them, gripping them tight between his thighs. "I need you both, right now."
Anders and Justice chuckled, their hand slipping to Fenris's nape to tangle their fingers in his hair. "Cheeky little bugger," Anders scolded, then caught his mouth in another firm, biting kiss.
Fenris fucked up against the length he could feel hardening in Anders' breeches — the moan that spilled from their nose at the roll of Fenris's body was Justice and Anders' voices in one.
#dadwc#fenders#justfenders#anders x fenris x justice#dragon age#da2#my writing#da drunk writing circle#anders#fenris#justice
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Please say more about this countweight/dragon age au where Anders is the candidate of the divine justice it sounds amazing
i have notes abt this somewhere and i cannot find them at the moment but like. the divine justice/vengeance would be such an obvious parallel to peace/order. and i'm not very good at picturing mechs but i've been thinking of justice as sort of like the amp runner, but able to switch between being quadrupedal and bipedal and also Obviously he's gotta have a ram's head. i think it would be sexy if there was some physical integration of justice into anders, like sokrates and integrity.
in the version of this that exists in my head fenris is also a candidate, but an utterly unwilling one (probably not for something as big as rigor but. the same vibe) who eventually escapes and meets anders shortly after. doesn't trust him or justice, and is especially horrified by the fact that anders and justice are... you know... but when they're both like "sure we'll help you get revenge on this giant machine god that was abusing you" he's forced to challenge his perception of them. and eventually anders and fenris bone in justice's uh. cockpit.
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"cramming into a small room, or a king-sized bed when one of them has been through something traumatic and is in need of support" for the kirkwall crew?
You seem to give me a lot of prompts that I get wildly carried away with, because wow I sure did take one look at this and immediately spend the next 8 hours writing a BEHEMOTH of a fic about Anders and Justice getting snuggle-piled.
for @dadrunkwriting
~*~*~
Rating: Mature
Characters: Mo Hawke, Individuality (Spirit OC), Anders, Justice, Fenris, Varric, Cole, The Rest of the Kirkwall Crew
Main Relationships: Anders & The Kirkwall Crew, Justice & The Kirkwall Crew, Hawke & The Kirkwall Crew, Anders/Justice/Fenris
Background Ships: Hawke/Merrill/Isabela, Aveline/Donnic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff (but mostly Fluff)
Word Count: 2771
Content Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of arson/fire-related injuries, Innuendo/sex jokes, Strong language, Spoilers for Dragon Age II
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34811041
~*~*~
The second Anders walks in the door, Mo knows something is wrong. His hair and robes are singed and his expression is… empty. Devoid of the passion he carried when he left the estate that morning.
Individuality – Indie – stirs restlessly at the back of their shared head. >>I don’t like seeing them like this! Where is their spark?<<
“I take it your second day at the new clinic didn’t go according to plan? You look like someone went through and kicked every cat in the city of Kirkwall,” Mo says from the couch.
Anders just silently shakes his head and makes his way upstairs to his room.
>>Get Fenris!<< Indie urges.
>>Euuuggh, why?<< Mo whines internally. At this point, her rivalry with Fenris is more of a formality than anything with real malice. A petty game they play at, despite being on mostly good terms.
>>He knows how to find Justice’s spark.<< The spirit
Mo snorts out loud. >>You know that sounds sexual, right?<<
>>Oh, absolutely.<< They confirm smugly. >>But in all seriousness, Fenris brings Justice and Anders’ true selves out. Go get him.<<
>>Fiiine.<<
But before she has the chance to do so, she hears knocking at her front door. It’s loud and steady. Indie immediately recognizes it as Aveline’s knocking.
She sighs and ambles over to open the door, mildly surprised to find not just Aveline but also Donnic, Varric, and… Cole? All standing outside her door looking worried. Donnic looks singed in much the same way as Anders. “Can I… help you?” she asks.
Indie prickles at the sight of Cole, but Mo shushes them. >>We have enough to deal with tonight, we don’t need you trying to pick fights with Cole.<<
>>Oh, so you’re allowed to have petty rivalries, but I’m not?<< Indie sulks.
>>At least my petty rivalry with Fenris is mutual! Cole likes you just fine.<<
>>He is wearing someone else’s identity!<< The spirit insists, utterly indignant.
>>You literally share a body with me, so you’re not exactly one to talk.<<
>>That’s different.<<
>>Is it, though?<<
“If you want me to go, I’ll leave,” Cole offers timidly.
“Nobody wants you to go, kid,” Varric places a reassuring hand on Cole’s back, then pins a stern look on Mo, “right, Prickles?”
Before Mo can answer, Cole darts away from the door and around the corner to… who knows where.
“See what you did?” Varric says.
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t make a habit of controlling other people’s actions,” Mo retorts flatly.
“I’m sure he’ll be—” Aveline begins, but is interrupted by Cole returning with three cats in his arms, “—back… soon?”
“Soren, Aly, and Splotches the Magnificent wanted the fresh air,” Cole announces, stepping through the door, “but they forgot for a moment that home is safe and cozy.”
>>Alright, fine, he remembers the cats’ names. He’s not all bad.<< Indie admits.
“I’m impressed you could tell Soren and Shini apart after only meeting them once,” Mo says.
“Maybe we should come in before any more cats decide to go on an adventure?” Varric suggests, nudging Ser Scratchy-Pants and Ariwen the fennec back into the house, “Or… honorary cats.”
“Alright, everybody in,” Mo waves them in. Once everyone is in and the door is closed, Mo places her hands on her hips and asks again, “So, why are you all here, exactly?”
“Did you hear what happened?” Aveline asks, worry written across her face.
“I obviously have not, or else I wouldn’t be asking you why you’re here?” Mo retorts.
“Blondie’s clinic got burned down on day two,” Varric says.
“So much smoke…” Cole murmurs from the floor, where he has sat himself down to pet the cats and fox. “Couldn’t breathe before, then the air… suffocating… barely got out alive. And the flames... exploding potions, red-hot droplets on tender skin… so many hurt… they just came to get better.”
“Everyone got out alive, thank the Maker,” Aveline says, “but there were a lot of injuries.”
“I was there,” Donnic confirms. “It was bad. The clinic is… he’ll have to start over from scratch.”
“If he bothers to reopen at all,” Aveline adds. “It might be time for him to pass the healing torch on to someone with less of a… reputation.”
“Revolution ended in flames, now healing has ended the same way… hard to find a path when the whole forest is on fire,” Cole says solemnly as he pets between Ariwen’s gigantic ears.
“Holy shit,” Mo murmurs under her breath.
“Anyways, that’s what’s going on and why we all showed up on your doorstep,” Varric says, trying without much success to keep his voice casual. “We just figured Blondie could use some support, is all.”
“And hugs,” Cole adds.
>>I need to talk to them!<< Indie announces.
Mo rolls her eyes fondly, “Message from Indie incoming.”
She relinquishes control of her body and lets the spirit take over, an eerie lavender glow emanating from their eyes. “Justice doesn’t need hugs,” the spirit announces. “He needs a cause!” They flourish dramatically with an arm. “You can’t help them if you don’t treat them as individuals!”
“Prickles has a poi—” Varric begins before being cut off by Indie.
“Not Prickles,” Indie says, hurt seeping into their voice. “We’re not the same.”
“Sorry. Still getting used to that. Sparky has a good point,” Varric corrects himself. “If we don’t give Justice a cause, they’ll both fall apart.”
“The manifesto,” Cole says.
“Kid, that’s old news. We need a new cause, not one from before the Inquisition.”
“Not that one,” Cole insists. “So many lost years as a slave… Never let that happen again. Not to anyone.”
“Fenris’ manifesto!” Indie blurts out. “They’ve been working on it together. Yes, that’s perfect.”
“See, this is why you all need to come see me more often! This is all news to me,” Varric says, a bit hurt.
“Well, you are a bit busy these days,” Donnic points out.
“Never too busy for my family,” the dwarf says with a grin. “Speaking of family, how about we gather the rest of the gang and surprise Blondie with some hugs? I can get Broody.”
“Why doesn’t Justice have a nickname?” Indie asks.
“Can’t they both be Blondie?” asks Varric. “They have the same hair.”
“They’re different people!” Indie insists. “You should come up with a nickname for Justice.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. It will affirm his sense of self,” Indie insists. “He needs that more than ever today.”
“Okay, uhhh…” Varric thinks hard, “Shiny? Glowy? Uh… Glowworm?”
“Oh, he’ll hate being called a worm,” Aveline snorts.
“Worms are nice,” Cole adds. “They deserve justice just as much as everyone else.”
“Alright, fine. Nightlight?” the dwarf proposes.
“Better,” Indie says.
“I think we have a winner!” Varric puffs out his chest proudly.
“Alright, back on task,” Aveline pipes up. “Donnic and I can get Carver while Varric gets Fenris. Mo, can you—”
“Not Mo,” Indie interjects.
Aveline lets out a beleaguered sigh, “Spirit – Individuality – can you and Mo go get Merrill and Isabela? I assume they’re upstairs.”
“Yes, we can!” Indie beams. Aveline is still adjusting to calling them by name, so when she succeeds it feels good.
“I’ll get the cats,” Cole announces. “And Ariwen. She’s not a cat, she just thinks she is.”
“Good call, kid. Anders will like that,” Varric says, patting his shoulder.
And with that, they all split up to retrieve the rest of their little family. Indie returns the body to Mo so she can retrieve Merrill and Isabela, since they are, after all, her girlfriends. She finds them both hanging out in their shared bedroom on the top floor and quickly explains the situation to them before leading them downstairs to Anders and Justice’s bedroom, where the rest of the group is already waiting (minus Cole, who is apparently still herding cats around the house).
“Is that everyone?” whispers Fenris, whose own cat, a tiny black cat named Shadow, is perched across his shoulders. He’s also clutching a thick book to his chest.
“Minus Cole and the rest of the cats? I think so,” Varric whispers back.
Fenris nods and turns to knock on the door, “Anders? Justice? Can we come in?”
A moment later, Anders pokes his head out of his door, looking like he’s been crying. Once he sees just how many people “we” is, his eyes widen to the size of saucers.
“We heard you had a bad day,” Carver says.
“Who the fuck sets a free clinic on fire just because they don’t like the guy running it?” Isabela says.
“Some people are just so mean!” Merrill adds.
At that moment, Cole shows up with Ariwen in his arms, Siren the Accursed standing on his shoulders wailing at the top of her weird little cat lungs, and the other nine cats trotting along behind him. “Cats make you to feel better.”
Anders lets out a tired laugh and scoops Siren off of Cole’s shoulders to cradle her in his arms like a baby before Cole herds the rest of the cats into his bedroom and sits down on the floor with them. “You’re all here just to make me feel better?”
“Both of you,” Fenris corrects. “I brought my manifesto, in case working on that will help Justice.”
“How big’s your bed, Blondie?” asks Varric. “Can it fit a proper cuddle pile?”
“Uhh…” he glances back at his bed, then into the hallway, “with this many people and animals? Not a chance.”
“We could put two mattresses together on the floor,” Carver proposes.
Anders shrugs, “Sure, if you want?”
“Easiest option is Anders and Fenr—” Carver begins.
“No one. Is touching. My bed,” Fenris growls.
“I will go get my mattress from downstairs!” Carver declares, jogging down the stairs.
“I’ll… help,” Fenris sets Shadow in Anders’ bedroom and hands his manifesto to Isabela before hurrying after Carver.
“Anders, can Donnic and I move your mattress to the floor?” Aveline asks.
“Go for it,” Anders shrugs listlessly and steps aside for them to slip into his room. “Careful with the cats.”
“I’ll keep them safe!” Cole pipes up from Anders’ floor.
As Aveline and Donnic relocate his mattress, Anders steps out into the hallway and slides down the wall to slump on the floor, releasing Siren to go yowl at Cole in the bedroom.
Mo makes her way over and sits next to him. She’s not sure what to say, but she and Indie feel like the right people for the job somehow. Maybe because they know how it feels to be infamous. Maybe because they know what it’s like to be called an abomination.
“Thanks,” he whispers, even though she hasn’t said a word. They wait together in a haze as the warriors move around mattresses and gather pillows and blankets. Merrill and Isabela continue the conversation they’d been having upstairs (something about Isabela’s travels). Varric cracks a few awkward jokes. Mo tries to think of the right comfort words but never quite finds them. Indie isn’t much help.
Thankfully, the warriors work fast, so before long they’re called into the bedroom where a cushioned nest of pillows and blankets awaits them. Fenris motions for Anders to sit down in the middle and then tucks himself under the mage’s arm and rests his head on his chest. Isabela sets Fenris’ manifesto in Anders’ lap, then takes a seat near Fenris. Merrill and Mo snuggle in near her. Aveline sits on Anders’ opposite side, Donnic and Carver tucking themselves in near her. Varric sits down near them with Cole using his lap as a pillow. Ariwen and Shadow find their way into Merrill and Fenris’ laps, and the remaining cats tuck themselves in wherever they can fit. Siren trots up and yells at Anders until he picks her up.
“Okay everybody, scoot in closer! This isn’t a proper snuggle pile until everyone is touching Blondie,” Varric declares. Everybody complies, leaning in and reaching out (careful not to disturb any cats or foxes who think they’re cats) until Anders is surrounded in a protective bubble of comforting touch.
He immediately dissolves into tears, clutching both Fenris and Siren to his chest until the cat gets irritated and leaves him to sob into his partner’s hair. Merrill bursts into tears with him, earning her gentle pats from Mo and Isabela.
Eventually, Anders’ tears fade (and Merrill’s fade with them), and he touches the cover of Fenris’ manifesto in progress and looks around at his friends – his family – and says, “I don’t know why we thought we could just… walk right back into Kirkwall and restart our old life as if nothing ever happened. I… just wanted my old life back. I guess that was too much to ask.”
“You’ve got us, Blondie,” Varric pats his knee.
“In your old life, we couldn’t stand each other,” Fenris points out.
“Yes, I enjoy your company far more now,” Merrill agrees.
“And you have a lot more cats, now!” Mo adds.
“We can’t bring back the past, Anders,” Aveline squeezes his shoulder, “but we can make the future just as good, if not better.”
Anders sniffles and forces a smile, “Thanks. You’re all so good to me. I can’t… I can’t believe how lucky I am.” He hugs Fenris close and melts into the cuddle pile. “I think Justice is having an even worse time than I am, so I’m gonna let him get some hugs, even if he thinks he doesn’t need them.” He relinquishes control of his body and Justice’s familiar blue glow emanates from his eyes.
“Hello, Justice,” Fenris kisses his cheek.
“We hear you’ve been having a rough time,” says Merrill.
“Sparky says you need a nickname, so hey Nightlight!” Varric greets.
“I do not need a nickname,” Justice declares, though his body language seems more flustered than genuinely offended.
“Too bad. Take it up with Sparky. You’re Nightlight, now,” the dwarf laughs.
“I suppose I could get used to a nickname. Nightlight…” he mulls over the nickname, a faint smile on his lips.
>>I knew he’d like it!<< Indie preens proudly to Mo.
“Did you want to work on our manifesto with me, darling?” Fenris asks, his voice soft and sultry.
“Our?” Justice asks.
“That’s what it is, is it not?” Fenris asks. “You do a lot more than just transcribe for me. You’re helping me write it. It’s ours.”
Justice practically beams, “Our manifesto… Yes. I would love to work on that.”
Isabela snickers, “This is beginning to sound suspiciously like foreplay. Do you want us to stay, or…?”
“I… would appreciate the extra company, tonight,” Justice says, blushing furiously. “Platonic… company.”
“We promise not to make things weird,” Fenris laughs.
“Can I help?” Cole asks, sitting up to peer curiously at the book.
“I, for one, would welcome your input,” Justice says, then looks to Fenris.
“I don’t see why not,” the elf agrees.
“I’ll make tea!” Merrill stands up and claps excitedly.
“Anybody care for a game of cuddle pile Wicked Grace?” asks Isabela. “It’s like regular Wicked Grace, except we have to whisper so we don’t disturb the manifesto-writing.”
“And we’re not in a circle, so everyone can see each other’s cards?” Mo quirks an eyebrow.
“Added challenge! You just have to be really good at hiding your cards,” Isabela winks.
“Sounds terrible, I’m in!” Varric laughs.
“I’ll get some cards while the tea steeps!” Merrill offers before bouncing off towards the kitchen.
“You’re all ridiculous,” Aveline shakes her head fondly.
“Come on, join us!” Donnic urges. “You’ve got nothing better to do.”
Aveline lets out something between a sigh and a chuckle, “Alright, I suppose you’re right.”
Justice looks around at them all gathered around him, tears gathering in his eyes. “You’re all staying here for… me?” he asks. “Not just Anders? Me?”
“Course we are, Nightlight,” Varric shoots him a grin. “You’ve been with us as long as Anders has, haven’t you?”
“It just took us longer to get to know you because you spent most of that time hiding in the back of Anders’ head and only coming out to have the occasional meltdown,” Mo points out.
“But you’ve really grown on us,” Isabela drapes herself across the pillow pile he’s leaning against. “Especially after you pulled that giant stick out of your ass during our adventures in Rivain with your Warden friends.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you’re ready for us to leave,” Aveline assures. “You’re family.”
“Well then,” Justice takes a deep breath and blinks back tears, “I am honored to be a part of such a good family. You all have my thanks.”
#anders#justice#hawke#justfenders#fenris#varric#cole#mo hawke#individuality the spirit#merrihawkebela#aveline x donnic#and everybody else#nuri writes#da drunk writing circle
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I've updated my longform fic, Silhouette, with chapter seventeen! It is a dystopian au that initially starts off within the framework of a high school au, but quickly branches out to explore how a neurodivergent perspective will influence the narrative, among other things. I'm hoping everyone will like it! :>
#dragon age#male hawke#male hawke x fenris#male hawke/fenris#male hawke x anders#male hawke/anders#handers#what would that make fenris' tag???#henris#male hawke x spirit of justice
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I decided to romance Anders this time...
And all I can think about is my new playthrough Hawke (Danielle) blindly following Anders in the Justice quest. He says he has a potion to separate him and Justice, she is in the sewers collecting the Sela Petrae. He tells her to go to the Chantry, she’s already there. He tells her his actions are his own and that he would never hurt her... she tells him she loves him.
She was so blinded by love.
When the Chantry exploded, her heart shattered along with her trust.
#god im glad my canon hawke romanced fenris#dragon age#handers#anders x hawke#hawke oc#danielle hawke#hawke#anders#da2#dragon age 2#chantry#justice#oc#fantasy
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Into The Fray - Part Two of Three
Rating: M (Violence)
Summary: Hawke was left behind in the Fade. Fenris, Merrill and Anders will not let that stand. Together, they breach the Fade and go to rescue her.
Pairing: Fenris x Female Hawke
Playlist: Click Here
AO3 Link: Click here
Part Two: And Deeper Still
It is of little wonder to Fenris that this place is oft called the land of the dead. If souls did wander, this place seems where they would go. The air itself is as lifeless as the ground underfoot, and it burns in his throat, acrid in his lungs. A strange and burning sensation, so in contrast to the prickling on his skin, as though he lies buried in snow. Stepping forward, tilting his gaze to what he thinks is upwards. An unnatural green sky, rocks in place of clouds. Merrill steps beside him, her mouth agape, holding her staff tightly.
She looks in so much amazement, eyes wide and studying. She’s walking past him, to reach out and touch a nearby rock. Rubbing her fingers together at the sensation, and moving to the candle that sits upon a broken table, half embedded in a cliff. Running her hands over the flame, a flickering blue thing, and as far as Fenris can tell, it’s only light with no warmth to be found. His fingers twitch, and he aches to be holding his sword in his grasp. There’s no reason, not yet, but he hears the shout behind him and his hand instantly raises to the hilt.
Turning to see Anders hunched over, bent in two on shaking legs, his hands pressed over his ears and fingers digging into his skull. Fenris races forward, hesitant to reach out and touch him, but Merrill holds no reservations. Putting her hands on his shoulder, trying to straighten him, bending over to look at him when she can’t. “Anders! What is it?” Sweat beads on his forehead, drops down his temple. Eyes squeezed closed and when he isn’t shouting, he’s grinding his teeth together, jaw clenched. Fenris steps back when he notices the back of his robes moving.
Bunching, gathering, as though the very spine of him seeks to escape. Instead, something else does. Fog, in the shape of a hand. Reaching upwards, and another. Bracing themselves on Anders’s ribs, pushing itself upwards. Anders staggers forward under the weight, and both Fenris and Merrill catch him. A body struggles to separate itself, a back layered over a back, covered in what must be armor. There’s something off about this fog. Parts of it are blue, almost clear, but others are darkened grey, malevolent. A helm emerges, and it is as though this other being weeps tears of ink.
Blackened and slick, it drops from under the helm, onto the chest plate, over shoulders. It drips down and fades in Anders’s clothes, and Justice steps forward. Anders collapses into Merrill’s waiting arms. Fenris draws his sword and faces the spirit that now stands in their mist. The corruption of it is evident. Justice spreads his arms wide, breathes in the Fade. Through thin slits, his eyes glow. “I am home, at last. Free,” he says, in that churning voice, raking flame over coal. Ink drops, sizzles on the ground.
Anders, breathing hard and heavy, pushes himself away from Merrill’s grasp. His hands briefly clench into fists before he dives for his fallen staff. “You.” Spoken low, dangerously. “I’m finally free of your fucking voice in my head,” Anders shouts, and casts an accusatory finger. Fenris draws his sword, puts a hand on his chest, and holds him back. A pointed edge in the direction of the spirit, who makes no reaction to it.
“Such ingratitude, after all I have done for you,” Justice says.
“Done? For me? No. For you. All of it was for fucking you. You made me lie to my friends. You turned me into someone else,” Anders says, pushing against Fenris’s hand. Merrill steps past them both, stands in front of Justice. Reaching out, her hand sifting through the fog of him, a finger dipping into the ink.
“You’re corrupted,” she says. Justice seems rankled at that, standing at full height, towering with fury. Merrill doesn’t move, even as he stares her down.
“Impossible. I am Justice. Honorable. Moral. Unyielding,” he booms.
“You’re a demon,” Merrill says sweetly. His fog rolls black. Reaching for her, and gold glints in green light. A flick of the claw against her palm, and the roots burst from the ground. Wrapping around him and the helm is twisting, turning, dripping sizzling black ink.
“Wait,” Anders says, “what are you doing?” Justice is clawing at the roots. Shining gauntlets twisting into claws as he struggles in Merrill’s grasp. Fenris keeps Anders back, and although he makes a show of questioning it, he could have easily stepped around Fenris’s meagre defense. He doesn’t. He simply watches as roots bind themselves around the corrupted spirit, and drag him under cold, dead, rock. Merrill looks over her shoulder at them, that last drop of blood from her palm rolling down her finger. Roots twist and wither, turn to dust.
“I’ve sent him away, to another part of the Fade, in case he wanted to hurt us,” she says.
“Justice wasn’t a demon!” Anders shouts. Another hard press of his hand against his chest, and Fenris sheaths his sword. The fury in his face, the despair, and this is the most alive Fenris has seen him in years.
“Spirits are only spirits when they’re selfless,” Merrill says. “The moment he chose to possess a living host to extend his own life beyond the veil, he became selfish. His purpose was no longer clear, and that was that. I’m very sorry Anders.”
“I know how spirits and demons work!” Anders says. “I know. I know.” Rubbing his face with his hands, squeezing the space between his brows.
“He was your friend,” Fenris says. He knows what it is to love a dangerous thing. To long for its happiness, its affection, and not see the cost. Not until it’s too late. It’s in the dark circles under his eyes, the grey in his hair and unkempt beard. Loving for so long without reprieve, and receiving only pain in return.
“Yes,” he says, raw hurt in his voice. He puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I am sorry.” Anders turns and looks at him and for a moment – “please do not hug me,” Fenris says, stepping back. His eyebrows shoot sky high and Anders breaks into a startled laugh.
“I’ll hug you!” Merrill says, hopping forward, her arms extended wide. Anders shakes his head, denies her offer with a simple wave of his hand. Fenris is pleased to see him straighten his stance, roll his shoulders. A deep breath, and Anders lets out a sigh.
“I’m only sorry for delaying us with… this. We shouldn’t waste any more time. Let’s go get Hawke,” Anders says, and his gaze turns to him. The friend he knows he can save. A nod, and Fenris gives him one in return. They both look to Merrill.
“We’ve come out in the realm of the demon who holds her. We shouldn’t be far. The Fade wants to do what we want, so just as long as we keep focused on finding Hawke then we will,” she says.
“How did you know that she was even alive in here?” Anders asks Fenris as they begin to walk, down the only path open to them. Merrill leads the way, sure and confident in her every step. Out of the corner of his eyes, Fenris can see the creatures that follow them. Drawn there by their very breath, and their shouting, no doubt. Eyes that blink over rock and stone, stare down at them from above. Shadowy figures that disappear the moment he turns his attention towards them. They are surrounded, that he knows. He doesn’t know why they don’t attack.
His gaze still upon a far off cliff, watching hands disappear from the edge, Fenris distantly answers. “I dreamed of her.” In a place very much like this, arms wrapped around herself. Armor discarded at her feet, staff in pieces. Hair drifting over her eyes, shivering with cold. Standing in front of him, and she had spoken. Words that sounded as though they were drowning in water, unintelligible, unknowable. All except for a single please, and her, reaching out, wrapping a hand around his arm. He had woken in a sweat, and a bruise in the shape of her hand on his arm.
Merrill had woken to find him on her doorstep. They had moved the eluvian to the Hawke estate that night. It had always been some distant hope, that she was still alive. After all, how could someone survive in the Fade for that long? He knew, in his heart, that Hawke could. The dream was only confirmation of it. Only Merrill knew of his fevered speech that night, his desperate pleading, his great need to rescue her from the clutches of whatever held her. He promised once, he would never leave her side. He wouldn’t leave her to this.
Anders looks at him in disbelief. “That’s an awful lot of faith you’re putting into one dream,” he says. Fenris shakes his head.
“She is alive,” he says. A knot forming between his brows, but Anders doesn’t press the question any further. The moment they had approached him, he was willing. Of course he was. A chance to enter the Fade and maybe save Hawke while they were at it? Justice, that voice ever present, telling him that he must do this. Pushing him and pushing him, and now to finally know why he was so insistent. All he was, after all those years, was a simple pack mule to deliver him here.
They reach a clearing, where a waterfall rains endlessly from nothing, into a dark pool that seems bottomless. Very near the shore, what is clearly an eluvian. They make their way carefully towards it. Merrill runs her hand along the edges of it, fingertips over gilded gold, curled flowers. Anders circles it, looks behind it. Fenris stands in front of it. It’s dusty, rusted over. He wipes his hand at the glass, and the eluvian sparks at his touch. Electricity that runs up his veins, and his markings instantly ignite at the feeling. He pulls back his hand as though burned.
“It shouldn’t be active,” Merrill murmurs, “how is it active?” The lyrium in him seems to have done something. An image flickers. More of the Fade, and his heart stops in his throat. He recognizes the armor strewn upon the ground. The figure in the distance turns, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. Walking towards him, on the other side of somewhere, and Fenris feels his very pulse drum against his bones.
“Marian.” He almost cries her name, and he reaches out his hand once again. Pushing against the glass, and it gives way to his whims. It’s the same as stepping through any other eluvian. He barely hears Merrill shouting. His arm is still outstretched towards her. Hawke.
“You’re late,” she says as she takes her hand in his. Pulling him forward, giving him a mischievous smile as she looks at him over his shoulder. “Mother would’ve been furious if you missed this.” A dress of the finest quality, ocean deep blues and swirling black and lined with gold. The staff in her other hand is much the same, ornately carved and deftly crafted. There are pearls around her neck, and in her hair. Red locks, pulled back neatly and beautifully. Varania gives his hand a small squeeze as she pulls him into the circle of people.
“Leto’s here,” she says, putting a hand on Mother’s back. She instantly steps away from her conversation to go to him, and her hands replace Varania’s. Long grey hair, braided about in a crown, earrings dangling from pointed ears. She looks up at him, her thumbs drifting over his knuckles, crows feet at her eyes, smiling lines around her mouth.
“Finally,” she says. It isn’t scolding. Far from it. He can see that Varania has taken her for a new dress. It suits her. No doubt he’ll be hearing from Varania later about how Mother had insisted she could have made one for herself.
“Sorry Mother,” he tells her, “it won’t happen again.” A chuckle under her breath, and she shakes her head.
“You and I both know that’s a lie.” A small wink. She reaches up, brushes back stray raven-black hair from his eyes. Patting his cheek and, “really, why you keep it this long is beyond me.”
“Marian likes it this way,” he says. Varania steals his hands back, to place a glass of champagne into it. With a nod of gratitude, they click their glasses together, take a sip at the same time. He doesn’t favor it quite as much as he does red wine, but it will do. Conversation mills all about them, and the band plays in the corner. Magisters and nobles of every caliber, packed into one gorgeous castle. Mother looks over the crowd, as if she could ever hope to spot only one among them. With Marian, she might be able to.
“Where is that wife of yours anyway?” She asks, turning back to him.
“No doubt persuading more Magisters to support our bill. That woman could talk a cow into becoming steak,” Varania says. Leto nearly chokes on his champagne. She isn’t wrong. Trouble incarnate, with a charisma to match. He looks over at the touch at his back, the arm that slips into his. Dark hair, like his, woven through with gold lace. Bright blue eyes, a slash of red about her lips.
“There you are!” Mother says, going to greet her. Marian greets her cheerfully, with a laugh and a smile, a kiss to both cheeks. She keeps her arm tight around Leto’s.
“I swear this crowd is going to swallow me up,” she says as she turns to look at Leto. For some reason, he feels as though he might cry from the sight of her.
He walks down the stairs, a hand on the railing. It’s far quieter than it should be. His steps echo in the hallways of the Circle. There’s dust on the shelves in the library. He takes a book in his hands, opens the cover. The pages are yellow with age, crinkle at his touch. Anders closes it, places it down on the table. He knows every carving, every bit of vandalism that’s worn into the wood. His name is here, under the second table. Where are the others?
He feels it creeping. The chill up his spine, spreading over him. Downwards ever still, another empty staircase. Beds are made, rooms impeccably kept. He pushes open the doors to the great hall. All of them, standing there in silence. Shoulders hunched, staring at the ground. They do not react to the sound of the doors opening, to his footsteps. They stand in the dark, and he can barely tell if they’re breathing. Moonlight flooding in from the windows, casting their shadows upon the floor, on each other.
He walks through them. Afraid to touch, not wanting to push, he makes himself small as he wanders through the crowd. They do not look up. They do not make a sound. Out of the corner of his eye, a face he recognizes. Moving to stand in front of her, Anders puts a hand on her shoulder. “Velanna? Can you hear me?” Her head slowly raises, her gaze meeting his.
“Anders,” she says flatly, “how may I help you?” No. No, no. no. Reaching upwards, parting bangs, and there it sits. Burned over vallaslin, a sunburst brand. Stepping backwards, his hand over his mouth, and going to the next. Turning Merrill around, raising her head to look at him.
“Anders. How may I help you?” Again, another cursed star. The sign that all that was once her, is now gone. One after the other, after the other. Moving through the hall, and he finds her in the center. Shaking Hawke, and she looks at him dully. Moving that slip of hair, and the brands on her are botched, thrice burned. They pepper her forehead, as if one were not enough for her. His fingertips dig into her shoulders, his legs threatening to give.
“Anders,” she says, “how may I help you?” He half collapses against her, arms around her, head buried in the crook of her neck as he weeps. She doesn’t move. Neither to comfort him, or to push him away. In the silence, his cries echo. Against stone walls and unmoving figures. The Circle is no more than a mausoleum, a monument to house the living dead.
“Who did this to you? Who did this to you?” Repeating the question, over and over again, knowing the answer. The Templars would pay. They would all pay –
“You have done this.” He freezes in place. His breath chokes in his throat. Moving to look at her, his hands clasped on her shoulders once again.
“What did you say?” He asks it in a hoarse whisper.
“You did this to us,” she says. “After you caused the explosion at the Chantry, no one could trust a mage. They turned us in. Rounded us up. We could not fight back. There were too many of them, and no safe places. They made us all tranquil. There are no mages left. Except for you. Where were you Anders? Why didn’t you protect us?” She accuses him in a voice with no life. She presents it as fact.
“I tried,” he says, “I did it for us.”
“You failed,” she says. “You did not free us. You killed us all.”
She keeps her distance, ducks behind a tree as an arrow whizzes past her face. Merrill holds her staff to her breast, back against bark, and looks behind her. Pulling back as another arrow flies. She can hear her getting closer. Footsteps in the brush, breaking branches underneath her feet. She strides forward with purpose, and that purpose is Merrill. Tamlen follows after her, the bow in his hands, drawing another arrow from his quiver. They are hunting. Merrill is the prey.
She breaks forward, turning the staff in her hands. Branches that twist, vines that grow, but it doesn’t stop Mahariel from moving ever forward. Turning the spear in her hands, shield in the other. Leaping over all that Merrill puts in her way, and Tamlen, ever close. “This isn’t very nice!” Merrill calls out to them.
“You let it taint us,” Mahariel tells her. Purple veins on Tamlen’s neck, discoloration in his face. “You let the Wardens take me.” She wears their armor, bears their insignia. The griffon emblazoned on her chest plate is twisted, malevolent. Not true to the real thing.
“What happened to them wasn’t my fault,” Merrill says, shaking her head. She knows exactly what this is. She throws up the barrier in time to catch the arrow, shatter it into pieces. Mahariel surges forward, and Merrill knocks the spear out of the way. Flames follow the path of her hand, send Mahariel darting back.
“For you, I wasn’t worth it. My death didn’t matter to you. You only fixed the eluvian for Hawke,” Tamlen says.
“What happened to it being for the good of our people?” Mahariel asks as she raises her shield, stops the lightning that Merrill casts her way. “You were meant to save us. To remember our history. To make us more than we were. Instead, you allowed yourself to be distracted. We weren’t enough.”
“Well, that isn’t right,” Merrill says as she moves on the offensive. A little bit of blood. “It’s not that simple. You can’t say anything to me that I haven’t thought of before. Really, you’re being quite unoriginal.” Leaning back as Mahariel strikes forward, and the spear nearly catches her. She calls forth the roots from the earth. No, not quite roots. Branches, spears of their own, strike up fast and quick. They catch Tamlen, piercing him completely, and he collapses into formless fog.
Mahariel skirts around them, shield out. Merrill takes a few quick steps back, feels the wind of it passing, watching as the tree very near her practically shatters. “I will die, surrounded by darkspawn. Abandoned by you, my people and the Wardens,” Mahariel tells her.
“No,” Merrill shakes her head, “you’ll die here, demon.” Such rage in this dream. The air around them cools, her breath visible in the air. Snow settling in her hair, on her skin, and Merrill makes her own arrows. Mahariel catches some of the ice with her shield. The rest of it slices through her throat, that twisted armor, again and again, until the demon roars, breaks, drowning flame into the dirt. It happens in a blink.
The forest is replaced by trees made of stone. The same green sky, no grass underneath her feet. An empty place, the looming Fade. Merrill whirls, and looks for the others. Fear has sunk its claws into Anders. Sloth wraps Fenris in its embrace.
A hand fisting into the back of his robes, and Merrill pulls Anders back. “Hello,” she says, rubbing at the brand on her forehead as though it’s a mere stain to be washed away. His eyes widen when it disappears. “You’ve just gotten out of the hold of one demon, it would be a shame to get another so soon.” At her words, the Tranquil snap to life. Hissing anger, halted steps, fingernails sharpened into claws. They advance forward, and Merrill spills forth flame. Anders’s eyes widen.
“It got me! It fucking got me!” He says, wagging a scolding figure at the demon disguised as Hawke. The laughter soon follows from his lips. Shaking his head, and his flames join hers.
Anders steps beside Leto, takes the drink from his hand. Downing it completely before the throwing the glass over his shoulder, pushing Varania away from him. “It’s time to wake up Fenris,” he says, “We have to save Hawke.” Marian, at his side, strides forward. Merrill catches her, wrenches her back. Struggling with her and Leto moves forward to take Marian from Merrill’s grasp.
“She said please,” Merrill says. Fenris stops instantly.
“She came to you because she needed you. Don’t let an illusion fool you,” Anders says.
Fenris steps back, moving from marble floor to faded clarity. Why is it so hard to breathe in this place? “It felt… real,” he says, looking at the other two. Stone hangs in the distance, the clouds that aren’t clouds. A worm like creature near his feet, and Anders casts it into dust.
“They always do,” Merrill says.
“Don’t feel too bad. She had to save me too,” Anders says, clapping a hand to his back.
“Where are we?” Fenris asks, turning as he looks around. Surrounded by tall cliffs, a patch of stone trees. Different from the low valleys and beaches of the Fade they had been wandering before.
“I think we need to go there,” Merrill says, pointing in a single direction. An archway, covered by a shimmering veil. What’s behind it is obscured, by the veil and by distance. Water seeps underneath it, pools in the runes carved before it. It doesn’t become any clearer even as they stand before it. Some ghostly wind shifts the veil slightly, and the water continues to poor. It’s Fenris who reaches forward, to that slip.
Pulling back the veil, looking to what’s behind it. A clearing, that leads to finely carved stone steps. Pillars that might have been made of marble, and an altar between them. A figure lies motionless on the altar. Another weeps over it. There’s armor scattered on the steps. A staff, splintered in pieces. Fenris steps through the veil. The weeping suddenly stops. It wears a veil of its own, and tears still fall through the fingers pressed against its face. Misshapen, unnatural hands, almost a mockery of what they should be. It wears a mourning dress, a hood pulled over its head.
Its arms drop to its side, and they see the pointed teeth inside its mouth. Through its veil made of lace, there are no eyes. Only tears. It floats forward, feet not touching the floor. “You were supposed to stay in your dreams,” it says. Fenris barely hears it speak. All he sees is that body on the altar.
Hawke.
[Click Here for Part 3]
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