elfhame | tran·quil·i·ty - the quality or state of being calm.

tran·quil·i·ty - the quality or state of being calm.

Anders only dimly remembered being caught. It had been such a stereotypical stormy night. He remembered being soaked and weak as hunger had made his entire body feel like it was weighed down. He remembered that he had been feeling that, but he couldn't exactly recall exactly what it felt like. It seemed so far away.

He could remember fighting, killing some of them, and struggling against all of their attacks despite the futility. He remembered panicking when they told him what they had in store for him. He just couldn't remember why he had been so worried. Even the panic seemed so far away.

His entire body rocked as his Caretaker finished with what he was doing and then rolled off of him. It was strange, how his mind wandered back to that night when he with the older man.

"Clean up and get dressed," the Caretaker said as he got up. "You're expected downstairs."

Anders obeyed because orders were easy things to focus on. He was dimly aware that he had been so afraid of being used this way, before. It just couldn't filter through as to why. Even now, it seemed more of a chore than anything.

The robes that had been laid out for him were form fitting and light. They hugged his body and showed off how thin he really was. He had on a gold collar too, something the Caretaker had put on him long ago and told him never to remove. He pulled up his hair and got most of it out of his face. Moving it exposed the brand on his forehead. He remembered being so upset over the idea of having one, and now it seemed so normal, expected.

Downstairs was the research library. They were looking into stronger ways to Silence mages without branding them and Anders had been invaluable with the process.

Everyone around him seemed to find that terribly funny, but Anders couldn't respond to their snickering. He could do anything other than what he was told.

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Nathaniel was paralyzed at first. He stared at the scene unfolding before him, lowering his bow slowly, till the smoke made his eyes sting and water. He squeezed his eyes shut till it passed, then raised his bow, blinked away tears, and shot the screaming man in the face. Not as a mercy, but to ensure beyond all doubt that the man was dead.

"Come on." He would ask how this was possible later, away from the flame and smoke, but they needed to get out now. He seized Anders' arm and yanked him toward the door, out the door, to the cool grass where he could breathe at last. He coughed hard a few times, took two deep breaths, and gripped Anders by the shoulders, peering at him with watery eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Anders gasped for air as well, bent over as he recovered. He wasn't wearing any shoes and the grass felt cool and wonderful on his feet. He looked up at Nathaniel with confusion on his face. Then, after a moment, he laughed. The sound was a little maniacal, broken in a way. It was short too, and then he was grinning with the same tone.

"Justice is still alive," he said. "Still within me. I thought they had killed him." He didn't really want to answer the question, not now, when he wasn't sure if he'd still have access to his emotions for long. He looked over the the building they had escaped from. The flames were spreading quickly.

"You have a horse? Some way to get very far from this place very quickly?" Now that he could sense it, his body was sore and aching, but he wasn't about to complain about riding a horse if it meant they could get away from this place.

That laugh is everything. That laugh is life.

"Thank the Maker," Nathaniel whispers, sending up a silent prayer of gratitude. He keeps one hand on Anders' shoulder. "A horse just inside the forest. Come now, or the fire will get him spooked."

He leads Anders off at a brisk jog that turns into a run. A few feet inside the woods is a dark bay stallion, unremarkable but difficult to see in the shadows or at night. Nathaniel gets Anders mounted before pulling up behind him, tucking him against his chest and riding off. Trot, canter, gallop.

Once they're a few miles away, Nathaniel allows the horse to go at a leisurely pace to make up for how hard he was taxed. They stop by a stream and dismount. Nathaniel rummages in his saddlebags and pulls out a jar of something grey and goopy and tosses it to Anders.

"Put this in your hair and eyebrows," he instructs him. "Rub it in well so it doesn't look greasy. It'll wash straight out, so we'll have to keep you hooded when it rains. Do you need clothes?"

The last question is a little uneasy. Anders might want a bath, after what was going on a few minutes ago. Slight color comes to Nathaniel's cheeks at the thought. It's too bad he can't kill the Caretaker more than he has.

Edited 2015-05-26 18:00 (UTC)

Anders had winced when they got on the horse and his body was stiff now that they were off of it. He takes the jar and considers it before he starts to move the gray through his hair. He frowns a bit as he realizes that doing that means his hair is slicked back. "People will be able to see my brand," he points out as his hand moves through his hair.

"And yes. Clothes would be wonderful. And boots? You don't happen to have boots do you?" His hands are starting to shake now that he's away from that place and himself again, but he tries to pretend that they aren't as he works through his hair.

Edited 2015-05-26 18:09 (UTC)

"We'll--here."

Nathaniel quickly takes a change of clothes from the saddlebag. After a moment of consideration, he also pulls out a flask of brandy and hands it to Anders. "Take a pull of that. You could probably use it."

The clothes are worn and comfortable. Among them is a cowl that can cover the brand, but they'd better have a story in place just in case.

"You were going to be my father, but you'd better be a Tranquil instead. Plenty of those orphaned since the war broke out. I don't think we can hope to cover that mark yet without looking suspicious. Unless you can heal it...?"

Edited 2015-05-26 18:20 (UTC)

Anders shook his head as he finished with his hair. The brand was designed so that other mages couldn't heal it and he probably would never be able to get rid of it. He hands were still shaking as he took the brandy and drank it. He coughed a bit as he swallowed. He had been expecting the burn but still hadn't been ready for it. It had felt like a long time since he had had anything stronger than milk.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the flask back.

"Does the hair look convincing?" he asked as he thought to move to the nearby stream to wash his hands before getting dressed. A part of him was just hoping they'd be able to put off leaving for as long as possible.

He really, really hated the idea of acting Tranquil. It made him feel cold inside to even think of pretending to go back to that, but he understood why it was needed.

He was actually avoiding thinking about a lot of things. He didn't want to think about what had happened or even of the fact that it was the first time he'd seen Nathaniel since everything that had happened between them and it wasn't exactly the romantic reunion he had been envisioning when he returned to Thedas.

He still felt more shaky and conflicted than anything, like he couldn't exactly focus on one emotion and was experiencing all of them at once. He was angry at the cult that had had him, at the fact that the Rite existed at all, at the Chantry that had thought it a fitting punishment to keep him there. He was relieved to see Nate and still had so many intense feelings that he didn't know how to process about seeing him. He was worried about the brand and so devastated to be wearing it at all.

Under it all, was Justice. He was quieter than he had been and his voice seemed to be getting quieter ever moment but the rage was there, the fury at the injustice of everything that had transpired.

Nathaniel hesitates. That brand is going to cause Anders a lot of suffering just looking in the mirror. He can't bear the thought of it. He can't bear the thought of making him go along with it, least of all when this is his fault to begin with.

"What if we...cut it off? Could you heal it then?" Nathaniel swallows at the thought of sinking his blade into that beloved face, but if it would be easier to heal...

Edited 2015-05-26 19:08 (UTC)

Anders paused at that before he finished cleaning his hands and strengthened back up, wincing a bit as he went. He was going to respond and say that maybe that wasn't too terrible of an idea when something distracted him completely.

Justice. His voice really was quieter and growing more faint with every moment. Anders felt, as he realized what that meant, like he couldn't breathe.

The panic that was settling in at the idea of going back, truly going back to Tranquil, seemed to grip his entire being. He thought about asking that Nate take that blade and sink it into his chest instead, to beg for death just as much as Karl had.

"No," he managed to say finally, realizing that he hadn't explained his reaction and Nate was just as likely to think the panic in his eyes was from the suggestion of cutting off his skin. "Nathaniel... it isn't permanent. Justice is trying but he's still too weak to effect a perfect cure. He may be able to once he has his strength back but the Rite mutilated him and he was already twisted from being with me for so long." He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "We have to keep it until the cure lasts."

"What?"

Something clutches Nathaniel's heart. His throat closes, his breath stops. He's suddenly cradling Anders' face in his hands.

"No. No. Stay with me, my love. Stay..."

He touches their foreheads together, resisting the urge to kiss lest it remind Anders too much of his captivity. This is his fault. He should have found him sooner. He should have chosen a better place for them to meet. He should have protected him. Four years ago, he'd said he would never let anything happen to him again, and now Anders has been mutilated, tortured, raped. The very worst thing that could possibly have happened, and Nathaniel had not stopped it. But by the Maker, he would not let anyone touch him again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

Anders puts his hands on Nathaniel's arms. He can feel it slipping away much faster now, as the last of whatever remains of Justice's strength ebbs away.

"Nathaniel," he says, and he just feels so devastated that he was losing himself again and he wanted, just once, to tell Nathaniel everything he meant to him and how much being with him had made everything better even for a little while. "I..."

But then it's gone and his arms fall and he stands there as passive as ever. "Why are you touching my face?" he asks, voice dull.

So this is the rage that makes a Chantry explode.

He's going to kill them all. He doesn't even know who they are. Whoever is responsible. Whoever laid hand on Anders from the time Nathaniel saw him last until now. Whoever betrayed them the day of their reunion. Whoever has raised a brand to a terrified mage. They are all going to die.

Nathaniel takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He has to take care of Anders first. That can be his first revenge. Anders will be cured and recover and live a full life and there will be nothing their enemies can do about it.

He removes his hands from his face and makes himself comb the color a bit more into the lustrous hair, making it a convincing dull grey.

"I'm going to paint your face to make you look old," he rasps, still scarcely able to breathe through his hurt and rage. "So no one will recognize you."

"Your face is odd," Anders points out. He remembers that means something but he isn't sure what. "Are you feeling ill? Should you sit down?"

He does, however, move his face to make it easier for Nathaniel to paint on it.

"I'll be fine." Even as a Tranquil, Anders is compassionate at heart. Nathaniel takes out the makeup he needs and begins to draw carefully on Anders' face. It's a precise sort of business, but Nathaniel got practiced at this during his time in the Wardens. The Commander liked being able to go places incognito, and so did he. No better way to remain unquestioned than to be a venerable old person. Daubing, smudging, and the years layer onto Anders' face like snowfall.

The work has him calmed down by the time it's finished. He has direction, and a way to make things better. One thing at a time. One day, he will help Anders recover from all this. But first, he has to get him to Bethany. A network of safe houses lies between them and her. Only a few million troubles could crop up in the in-betweens.

Once the paint is finished, he sits Anders down and hands him a hunk of bread and a waterskin.

"Eat and drink quickly. We have to be going."

Anders eats in silence. He goes through the motions of eating without experiencing any pleasure at filling his stomach. He ends up watching the stream as he does though he's careful to do it as quickly as he can manage.

"Where are we going?" he asks calmly. It's not really curiosity that fuels his question so much as just figuring out what to expect.

Nathaniel shakes his head. A coldness enters his voice.

"Places. I can't tell you. I know you want to be helpful--"

He stops himself and closes his eyes. No. He can't let himself start treating Anders like a different person when he's Tranquil. Everything he says now, Anders will remember when he's himself. Nothing has changed about him. Regardless, Nathaniel refuses to be a man who takes out his pain on an innocent. His eyes open and he sinks down to sit beside him.

"We're going to meet Bethany Hawke," he says softly. "You must not tell anyone that. She is going to cure you. I do not know where on the road ahead she will meet us, but I imagine it will be somewhere where the Veil is thin."

Anders accepts that and finishes the bread. He remembers that Bethany is a good person and there's no reason to not follow Nathaniel.

"What should I tell those we meet?" he asked, trying still make this as easy for Nathaniel as possible.

Something in Nathaniel's chest eases. Tranquil, not devoid of free will. Right.

"That you were in the Spire when the Circles fell. You worked in a novelty store for a time. Now you're traveling with whoever is willing to take you however far, trying to reach family in Ferelden who've lately agreed to take you back. I'll write up letters and documents you can keep to prove it all."

Anders accepts that as well and then stands. "I am ready to leave when you are." It wasn't as if he really had much else to do. The dread he had felt about leaving was gone.

Nathaniel looks to the pillar of smoke miles away, reassured that it's still burning.

"With any luck, they'll think you burned in that fire." He looks at Anders. "Does it hurt to ride?"

He's not sure what he can do about it if it does. Chances are the latest rape wasn't too violent, as pliant as Anders is as a Tranquil.

His anger boils again at the thought that a not-too-violent rape is something to hope for.

Anders considers him for a moment. "Walking would be worse," he replies after a moment, but that mostly has to do with how exhausted that would make him. Riding a horse isn't exactly relaxing, but at least he doesn't have to pay attention where they are going.

Nathaniel nods and helps him mount. Nestles him between his arms again, as he should be. The rest of the day and night is spent well off the road, as horses and wagons come to investigate the pillar of smoke. Anders is free to sleep while they ride, but Nathaniel can't. He won't feel free to sleep for a while yet.

It's when they make it to the first town that he seems to relax. Their papers, all very official-looking as Nathaniel had them prepared, identify them as Jack Miter and Aidan Mac Comas, and they are let through the gates without a fuss.

"They're looking for an arsonist," the guard apologizes. "We're supposed to check everyone coming through."

Nathaniel frowns thoughtfully. "I saw some great cloud of smoke away to the southish," he grunts. "They think it a fellow who'll run all this way?"

The guard shrugs helplessly. "I wouldn't know. I do as I'm told." He nods them through.

Nathaniel gets them a room and food, and insists on eating in public where they can be seen to be innocent. He sends Anders to the room to rest first, and joins him an hour or so later.

"Well," he says lowly as he shuts the door, "rumor has it someone burned down that tower to murder you."

Anders slept off and on during the trip and had been Tranquil all day. He's sitting on the bed when Nathaniel comes in and looks up at him, face still passive.

"That means you are not in danger," he pointed out. There wasn't any hope in that, or even a sign that Nathaniel's safety was something he really cared about. He was mostly stating a fact. "As long as they do not discover the lie."

"It also means you are in less danger, if they truly think you are dead. But it could be a rumor spread to make us overconfident. Stay in character. You are Aidan Mac Comas for now, unless it's just you and me."

He sits on the bed and releases a long, weary sigh. Maker, he is ready for sleep.

Anders accepts that and looks down at his hands. "Should I wash this off?" he asks, about the paint and the stuff in his hair. He had kept it because he hadn't been told to clean it off and it wasn't so uncomfortable as to make him think he should take it off.

"Only if you want to. I'll have to reapply it when we wake up anyway."

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