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peopleofthedas2011-04-16 06:16 pm
DA2 Fic - Arguments
Words: 2300 or so
Characters: Saoirse Hawke, Anders, Varric, Meredith, Orsino
This comes just before "Power" and might help explain why the Templars were sent against Anders in his clinic. Thanks for reading and reviewing, I love you all SOOO MUCH.
"It's all wrong," she threw the paper down and he felt it like a blow to the chest. How can she think that? He's spent the better part of the last two months on this, refining it, trying to make it work, and she says it's wrong. He tried not to look hurt, but knew he'd failed when her face softened and she moved to sit in his lap. His arms came up around her automatically. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to say it like that… but it's too… impersonal."
"What do you mean?"
"Andraste suffered at the hands of magisters, thus she feared the influence of magic…" She raised an eyebrow at him over the page she was reading and he shifted uncomfortably. It was fine, to write it down, but to hear it read back at him… She held up a finger. "First rule, write as though you're talking to a two year old. You've spent the last six years in darktown, you must know that everyone doesn't have a circle education…"
"Well, yes… but I was thinking more along the lines of convincing the nobles… it's not as though they…"
"You've lived with me for the last three years, Anders," her smirk was adorable, her hazel eyes twinkling. "You know the Boultons next door wouldn't know how to construct a sentence if you paid them for it. They hire people to do their reading for them."
He chuckled. "So. You're saying I'm going over people's heads…"
"In more ways than one," she put the sheet of paper back down on the table, leaning forward and giving him a tantalising glimpse of skin under her shirt. He began to think perhaps they could postpone the manifesto talk…
…a rebellious surge stopped him from acting on that urge. He'd started writing to stop the restlessness. It was an outlet of sorts, for the spirit within him, and he needed to continue it if he wanted to keep Justice sated.
He caught her hand and gave it a quick kiss. "What do you suggest then?" he said.
She canted her head on one side and examined him for a moment. "Remember the deep roads?" she said. "That night you told me about… about what they did to you in the Tower?"
He blinked at her. That was years and years ago now, but it came back to him. Sitting in the dark, wrapped in their bedrolls against the all pervading chill, trying to ward off the nightmares. Not nightmares about the darkspawn, but nightmares about other things. The particular sound a body makes, swinging from roof beams. The cold stone of blank walls with no sound but his own imaginings and the whisper of demons.
Those nightmares.
He'd told her things he'd never told anyone else. Things he probably should have shared with Justice or Alim or anyone before he made his deal with the spirit.
"Yes," he said.
"I never told you that was when I realised I hadn't been doing enough. All our lives we moved to avoid the Templars, Father was just protecting us. He had a wife and children, I can understand why he was so focused… inwards, but when you told me what the circle was actually like…" she leaned her forehead on his. "Well, apart from going from half in love with you to completely obsessed, I also realised we had to do something."
"My story… did that for you?"
She nodded. "You should write it out," she said. "The whole thing. And publish it. And then… then we should get the other mages to do the same thing. Ella. Orsino even. I don't doubt that the Kirkwall circle now is much worse than the Ferelden one when you were there, and that was bad enough. If people can put names to the people who are suffering, they won't be able to handwave it as not their problem."
Excitement claimed him and he got to his feet, gently setting her on her own and starting to pace the room. "I bet there are Ferelden mages who can write their own stories," he said. "If only we knew where the survivors of the rebellion got to…"
"Uldred's blood mages?" her eyes widened.
He stopped and gnawed at a nail. "No. No that's probably not the best idea. Although I know for a fact that two of them only turned to blood magic because… well lets just say that Templar who I got to? I didn't get to him fast enough."
Her face clouded. "When you said you were fortunate to Sebastian the other day… I wanted to kick you," she said, moving closer to him and wrapping her arms around his chest. "There are people out there who had a worse run, but Maker, Anders, don't think you're one of the lucky ones. I'm one of the lucky ones. Even… even Bethany was one of the lucky ones. Not you."
He stroked her hair. "I should get started writing," he said, looking at the fire over her head. "I might ask you to look at it, after, if you will?"
"I should have waited until the morning to suggest this, shouldn't I?" she said, looking up at him with a sad smile. He blinked, suddenly realising that she was stroking his hand, pressed tightly against him, warm and inviting and distracting.
The drive was so strong. To be doing, not sitting, not…
…having some sort of a life that meant something to him and not just to justice. "I'm bringing him out, aren't I?" she said, raising a hand and laying it on his cheek. "You have to fight him… when I want you for myself and not for…" the cause.
He drew in a ragged breath. He wanted to say no he wanted to say you're just as important to me as the cause he wanted to wrap her in his arms, kiss her, make love to her for days on end and never have this ever present, clawing, biting need inside him to be doing rather than…
"Anders?" He blinked and looked down into her eyes. "There is time," she said. "I'll still be here in the morning." She planted a kiss to his cheek and stepped back, heading to the bed. "Just try to be quiet? And come to bed as soon as you can. There are patients in the clinic and you need your sleep. No matter what he says."
Maker's cock. No.
"Fuck it," he said, unbuckling his coat and letting it fall to the floor, rushing to her in two long strides and gathering her up in his arms. She laughed delightedly as he buried his head in her neck and barelled her into the bed. "Naked. Now."
"Yes ser."
***
There are so many who want to tell their stories. The pamphlets litter Hightown, Lowtown, Darktown, the Docks. Everyone who can read is exposed, and people who can't have them read to them.
My name is Anders and when I was twelve I set fire to my father's barn…
…my name is Hannah and when the Templars came for me my mother tried to keep me from them. They killed her with a single sword stroke. I was five years old.
The Knight Captain takes copies of the stories to Meredith, who reads them and crumples them into small balls, shaking with anger.
"The Champion cannot protect him from me now," she mutters. Cullen hopes he imagines the glint of madness in her eye.
…my brother was beaten every day for six months until he couldn't take it any more…
… I was the only mage out of ten to survive my harrowing…
One day he was fine, looking forward to his next class, the next morning they'd branded him and he never smiled again…
Orsino debates changing his name when he writes his story and has it smuggled to Hawke. In the end he does, if only for the people under his care. Meredith has always been stationed at Kirkwall, it is unlikely she knows the details of his life before he became First Enchanter. He almost hopes she does, however. Anything would be better than this powerless waiting.
I was told if I didn't do everything he asked of me he would kill my family and make me tranquil…
…I didn't even get to see my baby's face before she was taken from me…
Varric spends Hawke's coin like water, finding printers who will keep their mouths shut, paper, ink and supplies. He is uncomfortable. But he knows the power of stories. And Hawke is his friend.
***
"She's absolutely livid Hawke," Varric was pacing back and forth. "Blondie's really done it this time. Of course the mage-haters are saying he made it all up, but I know better. The boy doesn't write that well, unless you did it…"
"Varric, Anders was trained in the Tower. I'm lucky if I can get a sentence out without a spelling mistake."
"I know, I know. But you've put yourself in danger. Or him. I suggest you take a few more precautions."
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "We're already taking as many as we can," she said. "He can get to his clinic from our basement, and the darktowners wouldn't let Templars within fifty feet of him."
Varric glowered darkly. "They're not above using less obvious methods, Hawke," he said. "Convince him to stay away from the clinic for a while."
She snorted. "You say that as though it's something that lies within the realms of possibility," she said. "He won't leave his patients, you know that."
Varric waved an arm. "Fine. Fine. You might want to talk to broody too, though. Isabela's been teaching him to read the stuff and it's making him angry again."
"Fuck Fenris."
"I thought you already had."
"You're a funny man, Varric. Funny and short."
"With a crossbow that could be pointed at you."
"You wouldn't kill me. You need fodder for your stories."
"Stories are what's getting us in trouble at the moment."
"It's working Varric. The people are starting to listen to us."
"Meredith isn't going to let this stand, Hawke," Varric tugged on one of his earrings. "You haven't been in Kirkwall all your life. The Knight Commander isn't someone you want to tangle with."
"We have to tangle with her," Saoirse started to pace the room. "You've read the stories, Varric, I know you have. For every mage who lives happily in the Tower there are six more who are miserable or dead. Or miserable then dead. Or miserable, then tranquil, then…" she couldn't think of anything to top tranquil. Last night she'd woken sweating from a dream of Anders wearing the brand. It had taken nearly an hour to calm her shaking.
"Hey, I'm on your side, Hawke."
"As much as you're on anyone's any way," there was a lot of bitterness in her tone.
"I like you. I like Blondie. I'd like you both to live out long, happy lives surrounded by little fireball throwing children. Antagonising Meredith is one way to make sure that doesn't happen."
"If we leave her be it will never happen either, Varric," she said sadly. Her friend sighed.
"I'll put out the word to keep a closer watch on the Templars," he said. "You owe me, though."
"I'll buy for the next year if it will help, Varric," she said, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Shit, Hawke, you owe me for ten."
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Getting the stories of mages out there...now that's a fantastic way to stir things up.
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Took me a little bit to get back into it ;)
Lovely work, as always. Such a dramatic and effective way to put the cause out there.
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