elfhame | In a cave in the hills in the woods far away

In a cave in the hills in the woods far away

Anders still wasn't sure if he liked or disliked letters from Varric. Most of the time, it depended on Hawke's reactions. Sometimes Hawke was happy, talking about how Aveline and Donnic were doing, excitedly sharing bits of what Isabela was up to while edging carefully around mentions of Fenris to keep the peace. Sometimes, though, the letters were reminders of how holed up they were. Hawke said he didn't mind. That he loved Anders and wanted to be here with him. That didn't help the guilt.

The most recent reaction was new, though. Hawke had read the letter two weeks and gone for a walk, not even giving a hint as to its contents. There was no discussion of it later that night, despite Anders' attempts, and Anders was afraid. That had only grown as Hawke went for another walk this morning. Justice was convinced they were about to be betrayed. They'd been too much of a burden, and Hawke was done. Anders didn't want to believe it, but hearing voices approach made him feel sick to his stomach.

By the time Hawke enters the cave with another person, silhouetted by the sun, Anders is a nervous, shaky wreck who can barely upright on his bedroll. Justice hovers, ready to take over, and Anders is spending just as much mental energy keeping the spirit in check as he does pleading with Justice to spare Garrett's life even if he had betrayed them.

"Hello?" His voice is cracked. It feels like everything is cracked.

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"Maker."

The voice is one familiar to Anders and Justice both, though it hasn't often sounded so gentle. Nathaniel is too caught off-guard to sound stoic. He'd seen Anders in Kirkwall, and noted how different he looked. How shabby and unkempt, and thin. So very thin. Now the man is glassy-eyed and frightened of his own shadow. Nathaniel hesitates, keeping his distance as Hawke strides forward, reaching out to Anders like he's approaching a wild animal, allowing himself to be smelled and trusted before he closes in.

"Anders," Hawke says calmly, with trust and a heartbreaking amount of love. "I have to go away for a little while. I've brought Nathaniel here to look after you while I'm gone. He's going to protect you."

Nathaniel sets his bow aside and doesn't look back at Anders, self-conscious and not wanting the mage to feel like he's a zoo animal being stared at.

The voice is familiar indeed, but it takes Hawke saying Nathaniel's name to fully place the man. It's not the most important detail. What's important is that Hawke's leaving. Anders has been too much of a burden. Hawke needs a break. From him.

He reaches for Hawke, touching him, searching his face as if he can find some reason for Hawke not to leave, but he can't bring himself to weigh down Hawke further and Justice is satisfied with the warrior's departure. It's about time, in the spirit's opinion. Now maybe they can make progress.

"Of course, love," Anders says as if his heart isn't breaking, as if he thinks someone who is leaving could actually return for once. No one ever does. "I..." Garrett likely means to return. It's just that he won't. "I'd go with you, if you wanted."

Garrett's voice is as gentle as his touch, as warm as his embrace. "There's too high of a chance someone could recognize you. I'm going to Skyhold to meet with the Inquisitor for Varric's sake." His thumb traces Anders' cheekbone. "Cullen is there too. There could be others. We've worked too hard to keep you safe for me to take you there."

Now Anders looks over at Nathaniel. It had been a pleasant surprise to see Nathaniel in Kirkwall, but everything feels distant now. Hawke is leaving and Justice wants to use it as an excuse to rain judgement upon the countryside. Unable to beg Hawke to stay or to come back, Anders nods mutely. He can't break down here, he can't guilt Hawke.

"I'll, I'll be here," he finally says quietly. Hawke trusts him. Somehow he'll find a way to keep that trust this time.

It must not occur to Hawke that Anders might think he's leaving because of him. It's as if the Champion assumes everyone knows he has to leave sometimes to do Important Things. Nathaniel looks away as Garrett leans in to steal Anders' lips for a moment.

"I love you," he says quietly. "And I hope I won't be needed for long."

He stands and turns to Nathaniel, leaning in to say something under his breath. By the look on his face, it's not the politest thing he could be saying. Nathaniel gives him an incredibly dubious sidelong look, as if Hawke said the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"You'll find out what's going on," Nathaniel tells him loud enough to be heard, "and I'll take care of Anders. That's as complicated as this needs to be."

A line appears between Hawke's brows. He nods apologetically. "It must look that way to you. But I'm leaving my heart in your hands. A man cannot be entirely rational in times like these."

"No," Nathaniel agrees, deadpan but gruffly sympathetic. "None of us are, currently."

Hawke casts one last look at Anders before turning and walking out of the cave. No goodbyes, because goodbyes seem dreadfully pessimistic sometimes. Nathaniel's gaze follows him out before turning to Anders.

"Well," he says. "Let's start with a shave and a bath for you, I think."

It's all so abrupt. One minute Hawke's just returned, and the next he's gone. Anders doesn't have the ability to wonder what Hawke's said to Nathaniel; it takes just about everything he has as it is to tear his eyes away from the exit of the cave. There's still a tiny reserve left, though, and Anders draws it together with a shaky breath. He can't fall completely apart. Hawke wouldn't judge him, but Nathaniel might, and Anders doesn't want that weight on his shoulders.

A shave and a bath. He reaches up to touch the mess of a beard he's wearing; Hawke wears it better. By far. "There's a stream, a warm one. We've bathed regularly." But it's been a couple of days, because the last time they went down there'd been others using the stream and survival is all about being hidden. Slowly, as if moving through a dream (and a particularly bad one,) Anders gets the towels and soap. A few moments later he picks up a razor too before stopping and putting it back down. Bathing is necessity. Vanity is not.

"We can bathe quickly and come back up here. I've work to do, writing to do." Writing is about all he can do. At the moment. Justice is already contemplating what Hawke's absence might free them to do.

It's fine. Nathaniel has his own razor, and a brush and soap. He hasn't even set his pack down. So he gestures for Anders to lead the way, carrying the accessories Anders has neglected for whatever reason.

There were things Hawke had told him. Things about Justice, and the unnatural drive he instills in Anders. Nathaniel had been grimly accepting of the information; he knew Justice, and as human as the spirit had seemed once, clearly this possession has gotten out of hand. And there's nothing Nathaniel can do about it. It's like becoming some nursemaid for a senile old man, except that the old man wears the face of an old friend. And there is a level of the madness that they both share.

"Do you hear the song?" he asks quietly, head ducked so he doesn't have to look Anders in the eye.

He doesn't look over at Nathaniel for several moments, instead leading the way to the stream numbly. If this is the last day he sees Hawke, the last time, shouldn't there be something more? Some sort of... he doesn't know. He'd begged when they took Karl away. At least he hadn't been weak this time.

"Distantly," he says, and his own voice sounds distant. "Justice says he's helping with it." He doesn't know if Justice is telling the truth but he doesn't want to be that open again yet. As nice as it is to see Nate and to know that there's another person in this world who doesn't hate him, Anders doesn't really know the man anymore.

"I take it that means you hear it." His tongue feels a little less leaden, though as they reach the top of a hill he can't help but look the way Hawke had to have gone. Maybe there's a shape in the distance. He can't tell for sure, but he tells himself there is, that Hawke's looking back and not quite gone yet. Anders blinks, and what might be a shape is gone. He stops where he's standing, watching, mentally begging Hawke to come back. The numb distance isn't enough anymore. He can feel it fading and feel the stabbing ache rushing in to replace it.

"He's gone." It's barely more than a whisper. Hawke is gone. And Anders has to keep putting one foot in front of the other because Justice won't allow him any other options.

"Just for a little." Nathaniel's eyes turn in the direction of Anders' gaze. "He didn't think you should know. I disagree. Varric Tethras is asking for help with Corypheus. Neither you nor I could go with him, but go he must."

He reaches for Anders' elbow, trying to keep the man moving. "He'll be fine, Anders. It's probably just consultation work anyway. He'll be back soon."

Corypheus. The last time he'd dealt with the creature, he'd nearly killed Hawke, Bethany, and Varric. No wonder why he wasn't being brought along. Anders slowly resumes moving, knowing there's something eating at his thoughts but not able to quite get around to it for several steps.

"He'd kill Hawke." A beat, and then repeated with more urgency, "Corypheus would kill Garrett, if he got any opening. It's the family's blood that was keeping him imprisoned, killing him would, would be important." Before he can ask what if it's a trap, Justice is there, filling his mind. The matter is out of his hands. He cannot catch up to Garrett. He cannot go along. It is time to stop being so wrapped up in fear and pain and start to work out here, and Anders takes yet another shaky breath.

The water comes into view, and there's no one else there. It's not really a comfort. He wishes he was running off after Hawke, but even if he chose to do so, he doesn't think he'd be able. He thinks Justice would stop him, and so there's a defeated slump to his shoulders as he woodenly starts undoing the fastenings of his over-robe.

"He called you." It's part question, part statement. Why Nathaniel? While it's not like there would have been many options, Nathaniel seems a surprising one.

"Yes." Nathaniel glances up and downstream, habitually checking the area for threats. He senses no darkspawn, and not a living soul in sight. "He knew you and I got on, once. And I owe him a favor."

Nathaniel almost certainly would have died in the Deep Roads if not for Hawke. It has been a few years, but Nathaniel has not forgotten. He begins to help Anders out of his clothing, taking note of its state of cleanliness and disrepair. He'll have to patch up a few places, but Hawke has apparently been keeping up with laundry. Doing what he can as a caretaker, Maker bless his soul. Nathaniel folds each garment as it is shed and sets it aside.

"We'll get you washed up and shaved," he says, "and we'll head into town for supplies and a hot meal. My treat."

Once, ages ago. Lifetimes ago. He'd felt like he was a part of a group, then, and it's a hollow feeling that he takes into the water with him. Anders ducks under the surface, feeling the all-too-common urge to stay there. He won't. He can't. But Maker would it be peaceful.

He emerges and shakes the water out of his hair before turning his attention toward Nate.

"They could recognize me if I'm shaved. We'd have to be careful." But it's not a no. There's a tiny part of him that really wants a hot meal and a shave despite Justice feeling it's too much indulgence. The spirit might be right, and it's for that reason that Anders warns Nate. Hawke won't return, but if he does, Anders has to be here and he has to be alive.

Tiredly he starts washing his hair. If Justice would let him he'd close his eyes and float for a while, but that too is a needless indulgence.

"But going to town is a good idea." The words are out before he's thought them. They're from Justice, which explains the echo that's there in his voice for a moment. Why is it good? Justice won't share minds with him and Anders is too tired to try to push it.

"Who would recognize you?" Nathaniel points out. "There haven't been posters up for you in ages, and they didn't look much like you to begin with. Everyone has bigger problems and society has a short memory."

He takes out his razor and brush and starts creating a foamy lather on a bit of flagstone he picks up.

He wants to say there were posters up just recently, but now he can't pin down the memory. When? Where? It's troubling. He'd had such certainty, and now it's gone, which makes him worry about where that 'knowledge' came from. It wouldn't be the first time he'd 'known' something only to find out that it hadn't been true.

"He... What all did Hawke tell you?" There's love in the way he says Hawke's name, even with the familiar spike of fear that comes each time he sees more proof that he's losing his mind. If Nathaniel was smart, the razor would be for more than hair. But he's not that smart, because Hawke's not that smart, and so Anders will keep breathing and so will they.

"About what?" Nathaniel doesn't even look up, just keeps whipping up foam with the brush and the soap.

He takes a seat on a rock near Nathaniel, water still coming up to the middle of his thighs. He's skin and bone, and sometimes he wonders if it's his veins he sees or Justice. Staring at the back of his hand is far preferable to voicing the answer to Nate's question even if both paths of thought are similar.

"Who I am. What I am." What did Hawke say to bring Nate here?

"Anders," Nathaniel sighs, bringing out a little pair of scissors to trim the length of the beard as close as possible. "I was there the night you murdered the Grand Cleric and everyone in her proximity. I was also there the day you told me to hold you and then fell over. You're going to have to be more specific."

He works the scissors deftly and quickly, clearing the beard like a pro.

"You mean to say you're still possessed?"

He doesn't remember large portions of the night he destroyed the Chantry. What he does remember, he doesn't fully trust. At least now he knows for certain that Nathaniel had been there... and apparently hadn't decided what he'd seen was the last straw.

Anders closes his eyes as Nate works, savoring the comfort that he so very much doesn't deserve.

"I'm still possessed," he says quietly. There's limitations to how much Justice will let him say, and he stumbles over how to communicate his fears. "There's... challenges. I just... I just want to know what he told you."

Oh, about Justice. Well. Hawke hadn't had to say much, but he did anyway. Hawke's something of a talker, and Nathaniel can't begrudge him a lot of words when those words are used to describe Justice in a negative manner. Menace had been the kindest one, Torturer the least kind. Nathaniel's gaze softens and he nods a little, releasing a sigh.

"He said I'm here to help you both," he paraphrases. Rather, Hawke had said he was here to help Anders and keep Justice in line, make sure nobody--including Anders--was hurt. It became one of those moments where Nathaniel felt like a complete failure to everyone around him. Which he usually was, it seemed.

Nathaniel's words add another layer of fear to the whole situation. Anders could hurt the man, hurt him terribly, and what if Hawke had downplayed it? He bites his lip, caught between worry and Justice's anger at the thought that he needs to be warned for.

"I'm not the man you knew." It's a compromise, because he's not getting any warnings out. Justice is too angry and too close to the surface. "I'm not... whole. I'm not always the, the person you're speaking with, and I'm not always..." He can't say it. Justice literally won't let the words out, and Anders closes his eyes tightly. He's not always in control of his own mind or body.

Nathaniel picks up the stone with the brush and foam as Anders speaks, but stops as he begins to struggle. He frowns when Anders stops altogether and looks so pained, as if he screamed for so long he ran out of breath but still can't stop screaming.

His free hand finds Anders' and clasps it briefly. It's been a long time since they knew each other, but there are some things you just do when you see someone suffering so much before your own eyes, even a stranger. But he can't speak reassurances. He can't say he'll protect him, or come between him and Justice in any way. Justice can decide to take Anders far from here if he wants, or kill anyone he feels is a threat.

"Let's just focus on getting you feeling better," he says softly. "The better you feel, the better he'll feel, so it'll serve you both."

He releases his hand and picks up the brush to start applying foam to Anders' cropped beard.

He claps Nate's hand back tightly for the moment it's there, breathing and getting a hold on himself. This is his burden to carry, and his choice he's made. He can't keep expecting people to help him carry it, but he can try to keep them safe when they're near him.

"That depends on what sort of better," he says with a half-laugh meant to cover up the sting of the truth. "Too much of it and it's pointless indulgence to him, a waste. But I'm all right, Nathaniel. It's all right."

It's not, but the foam application feels good enough that he can almost pretend everything's fine.

"Well, he's wrong." The foam goes on thick, but Nathaniel can already tell there are some ingrown hairs. It's going to be a pain to fix those. "You have to have sores on your face from shaving inconsistently. It's no good if one of those gets infected. You're skin and bones, I can't imagine you have the energy for the one of you, let alone the both of you. And he ought to understand. If a spirit's state of being depends so much on its circumstances, he should understand people aren't so different. You may not be changing into a demon, but you're wasting away. And I don't think he wants to wear another corpse, or he'd have already done so."

Anders finds his breathing easing as Nathaniel works on his face and talks. He hadn't expected to find that the man cared this much. It had been nice to see him in Kirkwall, so very nice, and he'd wanted more time with Nathaniel, but he hadn't expected to get it. Especially after all he'd done.

Of course, his relaxation means that Justice has very little guard to get past. Anders' half-closed eyes go electric blue as his voice deepens a little.

"I am far from a demon. And this is what keeps me that far - avoiding what desires and indulgences I can. It is when one gives in that they become corrupted. I seek no corpse. Rather, I seek to stay on a path that does not lead to my destruction." And truly, becoming a demon would have been worse than Anders' death that day months and months ago.

Nathaniel stops foaming Anders' face to squint at Justice. There's a pause while he takes in what is being said, and who is saying it. He frowns as Justice speaks, and ends up shaking his head.

"People aren't like spirits that way. People need to give in to some desires and indulgences, or they become bitter and dark. Anders needs moderation. He needs a shave."

He continues painting foam over Anders' face in circles.

"I can't imagine you'll turn into a demon for that."

He thinks that he may be being mocked, but cannot be certain. He will proceed as if that is not what Nathaniel is doing. The archer had not seemed like one to indulge in such pointless behavior before.

"You know him. When he starts indulging, there is little reason for him to stop. I do not care to be sidetracked needlessly. Already we spend the better part of our time cowering in a hole when there is progress to be made." Hawke was not an ally in this. Nathaniel, perhaps, could be.

"And you might make some progress and spend less time cowering if Anders is better looked after." A stern look. "I recall that being part of our original talk. Giving instead of taking. That includes him. He's one of the mages you're protecting. Think on that a little."

"He chose this as much as I did." Justice's look is level and calm in return. "We will make more progress now that Hawke is absent; he did not understand. But your eyes are open and you can see more than Anders. You can see what all is at stake." There's something of a question in there, along with a lot of judgement. Hawke could have been useful beyond belief, but he'd chosen to worry about small, mortal things.

That is a strange thing to say. Nathaniel gives Justice a squint. Better to be cautious and keep the spirit's trust than to be shut out and know nothing of what it plans.

"Do I?" he asks neutrally, giving Justice an opening.

Justice tilts his head, not considering where the razor might be. "Do you not? You have seen what tyranny can do. You suggested this arrangement. You are a Grey Warden, and you know of darkness and cruelty in a way Hawke does not. How would you not understand?"

Surely in their time apart Nathaniel hasn't grown soft and indulgent.

What on earth would Nathaniel know of darkness and tyranny? He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, by all accounts. He knows darkspawn. He knows demons. How does that make him knowledgeable about the mage situation?

"I understand. But it's not strictly a matter of kindness and cruelty," he says slowly, "so much as one of logistics. When riding a horse, you have to be careful not to exhaust it, or you might kill it, even though the horse has agreed to bear you. Continuing as you have is going to kill Anders."

Sort of a horrible comparison to make, but hopefully it gets his point across.

His eyes narrow as he considers the point. It isn't like he'd needed Kristoff to be alive, but the corpse had become inconvenient. After a few moments Anders is blinking, eyes returned to burnished gold as he looks tiredly at Nathaniel.

"I'm sorry. I must have drifted off for a moment. It's the foam, more than likely." He's definitely tired when he takes some time to sit still and isn't running high on fear.

It takes Nathaniel a moment to respond. He is distracted wondering if Justice's silence was a good thing. Well. Until proven otherwise, he is going to take the lack of argument as a sign that the spirit will be thinking about it and hope. He offers a fleeting smile to the mage and lifts the razor to his cheek.

"You needed a nap," he says as he begins the shave. "Still do, by the looks of it. Should we go back to the cave for one before heading into town?"

Would he be able to sleep if he was trying to? For the first time in so long he'd be sleeping alone, and he's not tired tired.

"We should get supplies and eat, if you're sure you want to go in," Anders finally says. "I don't know that I'd be able to get to sleep. It would be... difficult. And the trip's best done when there's still some daylight." He's not sure if he means it or if he's just making excuses; Anders isn't looking forward to trying to sleep without Hawke. Sure, Nate will understand the Warden nightmares, there won't be judgment there, but Anders will miss having warm hands and arms and words soothing him back to reality.

Unable to sleep? Because of Justice? There's no telling. Nathaniel gives a nod and continues shaving him.

"What are you sleeping on?" he asks offhandedly. It's very probable that any bedroll or mattress is full of fleas by now.

The rasp of blade against his skin is... odd. He's not afraid. There are some from his past who would certainly kill him if they saw him again, but Anders believes Nate to be straightforward. He wouldn't promise to protect someone for someone else and then kill them or even harm them.

"Bedroll, with a little straw scattered underneath." Within his exhaustion there's a little core of energy he'd not expected to find, and Anders draws on it as he continues. "Our cave accommodations will never be mistaken for luxurious, but they're not entirely lacking." Nor were they dirty. Hawke wasn't about to let them sleep with bugs, even if Anders didn't help with the chores. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was that he couldn't remember to, couldn't actually get it done. Any task he was assigned would be abandoned, half-finished at most, if it didn't directly help mages, and all Anders could do was apologize.

"...What did you bring?" Because it occurs to him that Nathaniel probably has no desire to share.

Edited 2016-12-13 03:44 (UTC)

"A bedroll," Nathaniel answers. "And after the road I've had, a little straw underneath sounds like pure luxury. Do you find you have any issues with being bitten by insects?"

"No. Garrett saw to that."

And now he won't. Anders wonders if Justice would let him do more around the place without Hawke here. It could be some sort of compromise. They're going into town, after all. Justice can gather what news he needs to, and maybe Anders will have some time to be more human and less of a burden.

He reaches up to touch his face as the shave nears completion, wondering at how marvelous it feels to have the hair gone. There's no scratch, just skin, and between it and the hot water he's feeling a little human again. The company might have something to do with it too. It's been so long since he's spoken with someone who wasn't Hawke.

Anders rests a hand on one of Nathaniel's for a moment. His eyes are a little unfocused, social skills atrophied, but the words finally come if quietly. "Thank you." Garrett helps him because he loves him. Nathaniel... Anders has no hold on him. "I can get the ones that have grown in."

It's not that difficult a task for a healer, after all.

Nathaniel wipes the last of the foam off Anders' face and smiles. "There you are. You look like a civilized person, almost."

The barb is meant to try to lure some of Anders' old self out. Maybe there's some hope, if Anders can follow that lead. If not, Nathaniel isn't sure what to believe. Is there a point, if nothing remains?

It works. Anders doesn't know how or why, but there's something in his mind and past that catches Nate's words and brings something that's just barely a smile back to his lips.

"Civilized? How boring." A moment after it's out he wishes he would have added emphasis and turned it into Howe, but Justice feels it's better this way. There is a thread there, something Anders could follow, and it is not going to lead down the path the spirit desires. Anders can't quite get his mind around the nebulous mood the spirit is feeling, and instead of sitting there trying to work it out, he slides off the rock and back into the water, casting to get at the hairs that have gone the wrong way.

It's hard to concentrate on what the spirit's wanting or planning. Nearly never does Anders have the energy for it, but right now he has a little extra strength and he has no idea why. Hawke's not here. Shouldn't he feel worse? Or is the spirit elated with his absence and that's why the burden is lighter?

"Next you'll be saying something about proper and that will never do."

There he is. Nathaniel's smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. As long as Anders is still in there, Nathaniel has a reason to be with him.

In the weeks that follow, they walk north. Nathaniel tells him they will be safer in Rivain, where the Chantry has less power and the pickings are ripe for rebellion. News of the Dairsmuid annulment was suppressed in most countries, but it is a raw wound in Rivain, where people lost loved ones who had done nothing wrong. This pretext will make Justice happy, and allow Nathaniel to visit another purpose there.

They reach Wycome and take a ship from there to Afsaana, a port city with no Chantry outpost. Stepping up from the rowboat to the dock, Nathaniel stoops and offers Anders a hand up.

"Welcome to Rivain."

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In a cave in the hills in the woods far away

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