#Bethany blamed me for everything even after I apologized so I wonder if she’d get angry or what

[scrapyardwings]

I like to imagine if Hawke survived the encounter with the fear demon, he spends an awful amount of time wandering trying to find another Fade Rift to fall out of. Muttering the entire time about how there’s rifts every-bloody-where in Thedas except where he is specifically. And while traveling he encounters a multitude of spirits and demons, some he talks to and some he just whacks with his weapon and keeps going on. And if he doesn’t find his way out, he finds dreamers and realizes that even if he can’t find his way out, his friends still enter the fade when they dream. And most importantly, he finds his last sibling’s dreams, and does his best to watch over them from where he can.

[mahalzevran]

Nandito Lang Ako

for @januanders

Summary: The growing friendship between Anders and Surana

Words: 1.9k

Tags: friendship, surana & anders

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: Nandito lang ako - I’m always just here

AO3 link

Rhian’s stomach growled. She was used to going to sleep hungry, especially when Master Cousland had been in a particularly bad mood that day. In fact, she’d gone to sleep even hungrier than this before. But at least she had her mom or dad to comfort her those times. Now she was all alone in a cold cell.

“Surana, right?” Rhian looked up to see who had said that. It was a boy in the cell next to hers. He looked a few years older than her. “I heard one of the guards call you that. I’m Anders.”

“Hi,” she replied. Just then her stomach growled again.

“Hungry? Here, one sec.” Anders started fumbling with his robes. A few seconds later he pulled out a roll of bread and held it out to Rhian through the bars separating them. She looked at it hesitantly. “Take it. You need it more than I do.”

“Thank you,” Rhian said, reaching over and grabbing the roll. The roll was cold and a little hard, but she wasn’t really in the position to be picky. She broke off a piece and started eating.

“They really shouldn’t send kids down here overnight without dinner as a punishment. Well, they shouldn’t have that as a punishment for anyone in general, but especially not for kids like you.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m 7,” Rhian replied with her mouth full.

Anders smiled at her. “So,” he said as she finished up the roll, “what are you here for?”

“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident! They all had these mean faces and were yelling at me!” Rhian could feel tears forming in her eyes.

“Hey,” Anders said in a soothing voice, trying to calm her down. He wished the bars weren’t there, so he could comfort her properly. He hated seeing kids cry. “I know you didn’t. I’m not mad. I was just wondering.”

Rhian wiped her eyes using her sleeve. “I missed going outside. I just wanted to look out the window but it was really high so I climbed up the bookcase. Then one of the Templars got mad and started yelling at me and I got scared. Then more and more came. I closed my eyes and wished they would all go away. When I opened them, they were all frozen.”

“Nice!” Anders said holding his hand up. The gesture made Rhian giggle. She went over and gave him a high five. Suddenly, she felt slightly better. It was like being near Anders made you feel safer. As if he had some kind of healing aura around him.

“Hey,” Anders said, “next time you get in trouble, you can tell them I did it. I’m older, I can take whatever punishment they give me.” Rhian smiled at him and nodded.

They spent the rest of the night huddled together, the cell bars being the only thing separating them.

—

“It’s not fair!” Anders was on the verge of tears.

Rhian didn’t know what to do. It was usually Anders who did the comforting. She patted him gently on the back.

“I’m going to miss him too,” Rhian said trying to be consoling.

“You don’t understand, Surana,” Anders said, his voice shaking. “It’s because of me. Of us. They noticed us getting close and they didn’t like it. Karl told me that they had a spot lined up for him. To help teach the younger apprentices. Why would they just suddenly transfer him?”

Rhian stayed quiet. Anders was right. It wasn’t fair. But when was the Circle ever fair?

—

Rhian’s heart dropped. That was the last set of cells and there was still no sign of him. She had kept an eye out while they were fighting the abominations and checked again once everything had calmed down. She hadn’t seen him with the other survivors when they first arrived. The dungeons were her last hope.

“Are you sure you didn’t see him?” Rhian asked Wynne.

“Yes. If he was hiding somewhere else, then he would’ve either ended up with the others or we would’ve come across him already. If he was down here, then he would be here. There’s only one way to leave and the abominations couldn’t have made their way down here.”

“So you mean..?”

“It’s the only answer, dear.”

“No! Maybe we missed him? We should check again. He’s probably hiding somewhere and we didn’t see.”

Rhian started to walk towards the exit when she felt a hand stop her. Zevran’s. “Rhi...I’m sorry.”

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Karl was gone and Jowan was stuck in the Redcliffe dungeons. Eadric was safe at least. But the thought of Anders possibly being...she couldn’t handle that. He was the first person to actually show her some kindness in the Circle. He helped make everything more bearable. The air suddenly felt thick. Rhian could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Zevran pulled her into his arms. She hoped tears didn’t stain leather.

—

Mhairi kicked the door open, revealing a tall lanky man shooting fire at a darkspawn. A few bodies were scattered on the floor, Templars from the look of their armor. Once he realized that there were people behind him, he turned around.

“Uh...I didn’t do it.”

Rhian’s heart leaped. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Before she knew it, she was bounding towards him. As she pulled him into a big hug, she was surrounded by a familiar comforting feeling.

“Hey, I can recognize this elf girl anywhere. Surana!” Anders returned her hug. Suddenly, he frowned. “Are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“No? I’d think I’d remember being dead.”

“But the Circle? How did you survive?”

“You mean the thing with Uldred? Great story actually-”

“Sorry to interrupt this reunion,” Alistair said, “but there’s darkspawn that needs killing.”

Rhian gave Anders one last squeeze before getting ready to move on to the next room. She couldn’t wait to catch up. She had so much to tell him.

—

A feeling of...anguish? Where was it coming from? Rhian closed her eyes and tried to focus on it. Anders. Something was wrong.

“Zev.”

Zevran yelped at Rhian’s sudden appearance, almost dropping what was in his hand. “Please do not do that. I am not used to your being a spirit yet.” Rhian apologized. Zevran took a moment to collect himself. “What is it?”

“It’s Anders. Something’s not right.”

“How do you know?”

“I can...feel it? In the Fade. I have to go to him. Will you be alright here with Alistair?” Zevran nodded and Rhian hugged him goodbye.

She didn’t know how long she’d been wandering around. It had been over a year since she defeated the Archdemon and somehow survived, but she still wasn’t used to the way time passed in the Fade. Or how to navigate it. All she had to go on was wherever the sense of anguish was coming from. Suddenly she found the source. She didn’t know how, just that her gut was telling her it was here. She crossed over the veil and the first thing that hit her was a horrible smell. She looked around and realized she was in a sewer. Then she saw a room not too far away. It looked like a clinic of some sort. As she walked in, she noticed a familiar blonde head.

“Anders?”

“Rhian? How are you here?” He had been crying.

“I sensed you. In the Fade.” Rhian walked over to where he was sitting and put an arm around him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Karl. He’s dead.”

Rhian’s jaw dropped. “What? How?”

“They made him tranquil. Having Justice with me must’ve reconnected him to the Fade somehow. But it was only temporary. He asked me to...I didn’t have a choice…”

Rhian pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. It’s my fault. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known. The Circle’s the one to blame. You of all people should know that.”

Anders hugged Rhian tighter and let out a sob. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t as close to Karl as she was with Anders during her time in the Circle, but he was nice to her and helped her out when he could. And she knew how much he meant to Anders.

“I’m here for you. I’ll stay here tonight if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

—

Rhian was in position, one hand hovering over the hilt of her spellweaver should she need to whip it out. Zevran had heard a noise while they were eating and it was starting to come closer. Suddenly, four figures emerged. Alistair moved to strike them with his sword.

“Wait!” Rhian cried right before Alistair landed a hit. “Anders?”

“Surprise?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Escaping from Kirkwall,” said an elf. He was taller than average and had glowing tattoos. Rhian didn’t know what to make of him.

“That’s Fenris. And this is Alden and Kaia Hawke,” said Anders. “And these are the guys I was telling you about. My friends from my warden days.”

Rhian recognized their names from when Zevran had told her about how the Champion of Kirkwall and her friends helped him get rid of Nuncio. She also recalled two new warden recruits from a few years ago having the name Hawke. Bethany and...Copper? Possibly related. There seemed to be a family resemblance. She shook their hands, and when she got to Alden, he made sure to let her know that he was Fenris’ boyfriend.

“Now that we’re all introduced, do you have anything to eat?” said Kaia. “I’m starving.”

Alistair went to check and fortunately, they had just enough leftovers. As everyone sat down to eat, Anders told Rhian what happened. He talked about the rising tension in Kirkwall between the Templars and the mages, especially after the viscount died. How the Knight-Commander started descending into madness from exposure to red lyrium. How she had started tightening her grip on the mages and that the grand cleric did nothing to keep the peace. And when Anders found out that she had called for the Right of Annulment, he decided that enough was enough and blew up the Chantry to send a message. This led to a final showdown where he and his friends helped the mages fight against the Kirkwall Templars. After it was over, the four of them decided to flee from Kirkwall in case the Divine sent forces after them.

As Anders finished talking, Rhian could feel her anger building up. She slammed her bowl down on her lap. “No. I’m tired of this. You’re always on the run, Anders. No more. You’re back in.”

Anders gave her a questioning look.

“I’m reinstating you into the Grey Wardens. Effective immediately.”

“You mean-?”

“Yes. I’m invoking the Right of Conscription. You’re not an apostate or a fugitive anymore.”

“Can you do that? Reinstate me?”

“Why not? I’m still the Fereldan Warden-Commander last I checked. And I don’t think they’re really in a position to deny me. I’m the Hero of Ferelden, Ender of the Fifth Blight.”

Anders’ eyes started to tear up. He pulled Rhian into a big hug, thanking her repeatedly. She leaned into his hug. Anders meant a lot to her and she was going to do everything in her power to keep him safe. It was her way of repaying Anders for being there for her all those years in the Circle. No harm would ever come to him ever again.

[talesfromthefade]

for dadrunkwriting “ i got you. it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.” for sonja and anders?

Sonja Hawke x Anders (Post- All That Remains), for @dadrunkwriting

There’s a roaring fire at the wall opposite, but it might as well be as distant as Lothering or even Ostagar. Sonja cannot feel its warmth, she prays to the Maker and Andraste with everything left in her to go back to being numb, to feeling nothing at all. There’d be a sense of detachment, that it wasn’t real somehow when they’d returned to the house to tell Gamlen what had happened. Garrett had taken over the explanation then, short, simple, without any unnecessary the gory and horrific detail. Leandra Hawke was dead. Killed by a madman. A serial murderer. A mage. Her hand clenches over her knee, rage billowing up once more.

Mages like Quentin, though they probably made up the minority of those with arcane gifts are the reason people like her father, like Garrett and Bethany, like Anders, good people are feared and persecuted. Why most would see the whole lot of them locked away or branded. She hates the man, hates how helpless she’d been, the senselessness of it all… she hates that she was too trusting, too desperate to see through Gascard. She wishes it had been her arrow through him, rather than Varric’s. Wishes Garrett wouldn’t shut her out, that she could tell him she doesn’t blame him. She wishes her mother’s last words for her and her twin filled her with something more than bitterness.

“If wishes were horses,” Sonja whispers her view of the fire before her becoming increasingly blurry through renewed tears.

Distantly she’s aware when Anders enters the room once more with the tea he’d gone to fetch for her. She’s not thirsty or particularly interested but suspected he needed an occupation, something to do, some means of taking care of her to feel less helpless himself. He’s saying something, and Sonja’s not normally in the habit of being inattentive when he speaks, but bringing herself to focus seems a near monumental effort now. She catches an apology and shakes her head as he crosses the room, gently setting the two mugs on the small table before turning back to her.

“You were lucky to have her as long as you did,” Anders offers carefully. “When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

There’s a moment’s consideration to wonder whether that might be true. Anders was ripped away from his mother. His first attempts to escape the Circle had been to get back to her. He’s confessed before a certain envy of Garrett and Bethany growing up free with a family who protected them, fostered and taught them magic. From the outside, it could easily have seemed idyllic.

Leandra Hawke could be, at times, however, something of a tempest. As hard and unforgiving as she could be loving and never quite been the same woman after their father had died. She had never quite been able to hide a certain resentment of Garrett’s magic, his resemblance to her late husband, never truly recognized or appreciated her eldest son’s use of humor as both comfort and shield. She couldn’t seem to decide whether she was pleased with Sonja’s wealth and position after they found their fortune, or bitter her daughter would have the kind of life as a young woman she’d forfeited. Until her last breaths, Sonja hadn’t been certain she’d forgiven her and her brother for taking Carver into the Deep Roads with them, for not being there or doing something to stop Bethany being taken to the Circle. She’d always tried her best to do everything she could to keep the peace, not make waves, to be the young woman her mother wanted her to be, but she could probably count the times she’d heard Leandra was proud of her. That those would be her last words, that she couldn’t bring herself to say them more when they’d had the time… but the prospect of anger seems just as exhausting as grief, and she’s been taught better than to speak ill of the dead. Certainly not before they’re even buried.

They’ll be arrangements to make, she thinks absently. Father’s death had come only a little before the Darkspawn. He’d had his rites seen too, but there’d been little ceremony made of it. She doesn’t know what the process might be here in Kirkwall. Mother had been someone here once, her brother has made a name for them again, there might be some call for making it a more public affair, although she rather hopes not. She won’t let Garrett do it alone, in any case.

“I didn’t try hard enough to save her,” she manages softly, finally giving voice to some of the thoughts that echo in her head, even her voice sounds distant and wrong. Maybe if she’d thought to look for her sooner… If she’d not trusted Gascard… If...

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Sonja replies, quite before she can stop herself, immediately regretting the words.

“No,” Anders replies before she can take them back. “And I’m sorry I never will,” he acknowledges, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside her. “But I’m here for you,” Anders offers quietly, turning over a hand in the small space between them to offer it to her. “Whatever you need.” Sonja releases her white-knuckle grip from her knee, dropping a shaking hand into the healer’s own.

“Thank you.” The words sound hollow in her ears, despite their being sincerely felt, but it doesn’t feel as though she has any more strength to summon to reinforce their conviction. Anders doesn’t seem to mind. He offers her hand a gentle squeeze, tugging her softly, encouraging her to lean into him so she does.

“It’s not okay,” Anders continues thoughtfully, staring with her unseeing into the fire in front of them. “None of what happened is. But you will be. One day. And until then, I’ll be right here with you. For as long as you have need and want of me.”