Sanctuary

[miri1984]

Title: Sanctuary
Words: 2000
Characters: Isabela, Fenris, Anders, Saoirse, Finn, Ciara
Summary: Fenris and Isabela travel to the mage base to seek help from Anders for his markings.

It happens more and more often. He is running out of ways to hide it from her. It is a good thing they have left the ship moored safely behind them, traveling towards Orzammar overland, because in the close confines of that environment someone would have been hurt. At least in the open, here, he can be certain the only person in danger is Isabela.

And yet the thought that he may end up hurting her is driving him mad, and he is unable to hide his irritation, unable to stop himself from ordering her away from him when she touches him, when she tries to sleep next to him - things they have been doing for years, things that he knows are as natural to her as breathing. She complains, bitterly, and occasionally he relents, but there are things he will no longer risk and she jokes that if they don't reach Anders soon she'll start magically fisting herself and he laughs a little, at that, glad the mages are out of earshot.

The pain he can hide, and does, because pain is easy, pain is something he has, always and forever, experienced more of than that which he feels now.

He tells himself that this pain he is experiencing in freedom, well aware that all freedoms are relative.

"You're not happy."

"Should I be?"

She shrugs. "Probably not. Never stops me though."

"We're trudging through freezing mountains to a dwarven city with a group of apostate mages, seeking the help of a man I despise for an ailment that was foisted on me by my former master with, I might add, no knowledge of whether he can or cannot help. Tell me something I can be happy about, Isabela."

She winks at him. "I'm here."

He cannot help but smile.

The dwarves seem shocked to see him, even more shocked by his tattoos. He suspects their leader, Bhelen, would like to strip it from his flesh - it is obviously lyrium that he did not sanction the sale of, and he knows enough from Hawke's reports that this monarch considers all lyrium, even that which goes towards keeping the templars docile and under the chantry's sway, is simply on loan until he can find away to make money from it again.

There is a mage, living in the city, who stays to guide those who come seeking Anders and Hawke to their base. Fenris and Isabela do not know exactly where that base is, and none of the mages who go down there return or are seen again, save in fleeting glimpses during lightning attacks on chantry strongholds. People have come to fear them the way they once feared the darkspawn, erupting from the earth, although they are more organised and do not attack civilians.

That doesn't mean civilians do not get caught in the crossfire. But there are stories of some mages staying to heal villagers who have been injured afterwards, stories of at least one group of mages who go from town to town, not attacking chantries or templars, but simply offering services to those who would not previously be able to, delivering children, healing disease, even helping with farming.

He suspects Hawke of being with that group more often than not.

The pale, young mage who leads them into the deep roads is, he realises when they are attacked by darkspawn the second day underground, a warden. The way she cocks her head on one side, then motions them back tells him more about how much she's had to fight than anything else could have. There is a practiced ease in the way she informs them how many darkspawn there are.

The apostates they travel with are hopelessly inept, and it is up to the mage and he and Isabela to protect them. Even then, one of the apostates falls to a darkspawn arrow. They manage to heal him, but it's obvious he's tainted. A few more days into the roads and the little warden mage pulls the tainted one aside.

When she comes back, he's dead. Fenris, who knows what happened to Carver, raises an eyebrow at Isabela, who shakes her head.

The other apostates look miserable and Fenris can even find it in his heart to pity them.

He finds himself next to the warden mage, who's name is Ciara, two days after the death of the tainted mage. "How old are you?" he asks her softly. She cocks a cynical eyebrow at him.

"I don't know, Serah," she says bluntly. "They didn't tell me, when I was in the Gallows, when my name day was. And I don't remember my parents."

He swallows.

They meet up with the Legion of the dead when they've been underground for a week and Fenris is beginning to forget what daylight looks like. Bela is worse off than he is - he can tell she is suffering, wondering how her ship is faring, and his heart aches for her.

"I should have come alone," he says to her one night, frustrated, sitting by their small fire amidst debris and bones and shattered armour and taint and darkness and death.

She shakes her head, smiling. "Don't be stupid," she says.

"You're the one being stupid."

"Do you want to reexamine that statement, lanky, or do you want my dagger in your gut?"

"If something were to happen to you I…"

She doesn't interrupt him. She just sits there, bathed in firelight, a slight smile on her lips. He remembers when she left them, back in Kirkwall, what he'd said when they'd found her letter. Once a thief, always a thief. Oh yes, he has changed since then. So has she.

He swallows and looks down. "I do not want you harmed, Isabela."

There is a pause, then he feels her breath on his ear briefly, her hand on his thigh, even though he has warned her to stay away from him…

…she was never good at following warnings.

She doesn't say anything, just kisses the skin at the base of his ear and squeezes his thigh hard, once, before moving away again. He represses a groan, stops himself from pulling her to him, because he isn't safe, he is as bad as a… as an abomination and no matter the darkspawn and spiders and mages surrounding them he is more likely to do her harm than anything else.

It makes him angry.

The young mage has assured them they are only a few days away from their destination when he feels the flare of power. He cannot repress the cry of pain that tears through him as he falls to the floor, but he does manage to hold up a hand and warn the Legionnaire nearest him to stay back. It lasts far longer than it has before - hours, days, minutes, he doesn't know, although he suspects it's longer than any of them like.

When he comes back to himself he is rolled in a blanket, in camp, and Isabela is holding his hand as she sits next to him. He pulls it from her, irritated. "You should not touch me."

She pats his knee. "I know, pet. But when have I ever done what I should do?"

"You are infuriating."

"And you love it."

"Pfah."

Kadash Thaig isn't like the others. It's full of light, and there are plots where plants are growing, even livestock grazing here and there, although he has no concept of how they could have been transported through the roads. Ciara sees his look and smiles slightly. "There are easier ways to get here," she says shortly. "For obvious reasons we don't always leave via Orzammar. And the roads around here are kept very clear of 'spawn."

There are children running to and fro, over the obviously repaired streets. Houses are patched and worn, but whole. He sees a couple smiling and laughing in a doorway, another couple kissing on a bridge that spans remarkably clear water. After the gloom of the deep roads it is like a paradise - the maker's garden set underground where no one would ever suspect a treasure like this could hide.

He finds himself admiring Hawke for thinking of it. If it truly had been Hawke.

It takes a few steps for him to notice other things. A hard eyed stare from a mage in heavy robes. A man missing a leg, muttering in a corner about templars. A subtle shift in tension when one mage talks to a woman in armour - the faint shadow of an emblem that might possibly once have been a flaming sword on the breastplate.

He had known, of course, that templars as well as mages came here. And yet, it does not feel like the Gallows. There are no guards save those against the darkspawn. Perhaps… perhaps Hawke has managed to make it work.

The young mage asks them to wait before ducking into a small, neat cottage, bringing out a man he has never seen before in immaculate robes and a… somewhat ridiculous hat. He smiles reassuringly at the mages and introduces himself as Finn. Isabela yawns in what Fenris hopes is feigned boredom while the man assigns the new mages places to stay.

"Will we get to see the Champion?" one of them asks, hopefully, and Finn smiles and shakes his head. "Soon," he says, fixing Fenris and Isabela with a slightly questioning look. "She's… uh… very busy at the moment."

"What about the Healer?" another voice pipes up and Fenris has to resist the urge to shake his head. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding himself that before any chantries had been destroyed Anders had spent years with no title other than that to the people of Kirkwall. He had never been warden, apostate or abomination to the people he tended.

How many deaths are on his head now? he wondered. How can he possibly think he is worthy of that name?

Isabela's fingers on his arm make him open his eyes. Finn is there, alone, the mages having dispersed. "You must be Fenris," Finn says, smiling. Fenris resists the urge to snarl.

"Must I?"

Isabela heaves a sigh. "Ignore him, sweetheart, he's grumpy when he's underground. Where's Hawke?"

Finn gives them both a look, then shrugs. "Come with me."

He leads them through the village - for that's what it is, up past a massive statue of a golem and over a bridge to a small copse of houses that are in better repair than the others. "We started here," Finn says, "it's the most easily defendable position, and the deepstalkers didn't tend to burst out of the ground here quite so much, which I can tell you now was a bit of a relief. There's only so much of their poison you can take before your skin starts turning green and oh… I'm sorry I'm babbling… haha… uh…" The house they come to is the similar to all the others, doorways just slightly too small for comfort, but the windows are wider and the door is painted a bright, cheerful blue.

"It's her favourite colour," Finn says, grinning, and Isabela frowns. Hawke's favourite colour had been red, and he doubted the abomination ever thought long enough about colours to bother with a favourite.

Finn knocks, and there is the sound of movement within. Fenris thinks he hears Hawke's voice, and Anders' and he finds his fists have clenched by his sides.

Saoirse opens the door and sees them, a smile spreading over her face that is… comforting. He doesn't like to admit it, but he has missed her, in his way. Missed her strength.

She motions them into a small sitting room, slightly untidy, clothes strewn over a stone bench near a fire, books piled in a corner and…

…carved wooden toys in a pile on a rug.

Fenris stares at them for a few moments, blinking.

"What brings you here?" Saoirse says, as she busies herself fetching drinks. "Is there a problem with our arrangements? Are you in danger of being discovered?"

Fenris sits, clasping his hands in front of him, while Isabela leans against the fireplace. She has picked up one of the toys - a wooden mabari, and is turning it over in her hands, one eyebrow cocked.

"I need your help," he says plainly. "Or more particularly, I suspect, I need… Anders' help."

"Did I just hear that correctly?" Anders' familiar sardonic tone almost pulls a groan from Fenris, "You need my help?"

He looks up to see the mage in the doorway that leads further into the house and opens his mouth to snarl at him for being exactly the same arrogant, thoughtless… mage he's always been when he notices a small figure clutching at the bottom of his ridiculous coat and breathes in sharply.

She has a bright thatch of messy red hair and wide, wide, whiskey-coloured eyes and she tilts her head on one side in a gesture that is so totally Hawke that it almost takes his breath away.

"Da," she says. "DA."

Anders leans one hand down absently and pats the tousled head. "It's all right, ghastling, these are friends."

"My my," Isabela purrs. "Haven't you two been busy little beans."

Comments

[zute]

Oooh, they have been busy beans. I love this set-up with the mage underground... literally. I always wonder how they get their vitamin D. :)

[miri1984]

.... *sheepish laugh* I've actually spent a fairly large amount of time thinking about that you know. I'm going with fire spells. *nodnod*. That's how the plants get their UV as well.

MAGIC! IT CAN DO ANYTHING.

And thanks :D.

[ouyangdan]

*in a sing-song voice*

Every little thing she does is magic...