#awakening!anders

Anders already knew more than he needed to about Morrigan’s eluvian and, really, there were people in the medtents he could be seeing to, so he had to wonder why he was there. Especially since everyone was silent. Well, mostly. Cassandra and Vivienne were talking about the Chant, which Anders didn’t count.  Anders wasn’t about to waste time standing around in silence when there was work to be done. “You know, the Commander told me there was an eluvian tainted with the Blight. Got some poor Dalish sap.”

“More than one,” Varric said with a grunt. Anders watched as the crossbow shifted on the dwarf’s back. “I know you read Tale of the Champion, Blondie.”

“Oh. Was that the same mirror, then?”

“Same one.”

“Well,” Anders began, gesturing to the door. “This one apparently blew up the Kirkwall chantry.”

Vivienne and Cassandra stopped their conversation to stare incredulously at Anders. He was actually a little proud of that. Varric, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to decide between an angry scowl and a confused stare. “Run that by me again.”

“It’s simple. Morrigan runs off to find the mirror. Goes through the mirror. Commander Surana goes after the mirror to find Morrigan. Goes in and fucks off to do… Whatever in there with her. A templar gets joined and harasses me, I join with Justice… Boom.” He mimed an explosion with his hands, using a bit of magic to add a touch of smoke. For authenticity.

Varric just shook his head. “I thought Steve joined with Justice.”

“That’s what you’re questioning?” Blackwall asked, sounding put upon. As if he was one to talk.

“Look, everything he said was crazy. I gotta start somewhere.”

Anders looked and saw everyone looking at him. “I’m feeling really singled out right now.”

 After glancing around, he stepped off his floating rock and towards the largest piece of ‘ground’ floating in the Fade. To his delight, this resulted in a smooth transition from being horizontal to standing upright, though poor Lavellan didn’t fare as well.

“And here I thought one trip to the Fade was already one too many for a dwarf,” Varric groused.

“So that bit with the somniari kid really happened?”

“You know, Blondie, you ask that about everything. How about you just assume everything in the book happened?”

Anders shook his head. “But then I just end up imagining you sitting the corner writing notes while Hawke and that Fenris fellow-”

“That’s enough,” Hawke interrupted.

“Can we focus? Just a little? We’re trapped in the Fade, probably with whatever demon Erimond was trying to draw through and everyone back at Adamant thinks we dead.” Lavellan twitched and swung her arms and checked the soles of her feet in anxious motions that Anders knew from experience absolutely did not help. Well, not the feet checking, unless there was a rock in his boot.

Anders laced his fingers behind his head and followed behind Lavellan at a sedate-enough pace that no one asked him any pointed questions about the Fade and Justice. Actually, being in the Fade physically felt a lot more like when he’d been in the Fade during the Blackmarsh incident than when he was Harrowed.

When the ghost of Divine Justinia or whatever the apparition was supposed to be started talking to the Inquisitor, Anders’ thoughts drifted off to Wynne. The commander had said that Wynne was (had been? She was dead now, right?) possessed by a spirit of Faith. Maybe that was why he’d thought it was a good idea to join with Justice. Though, Varric had also mentioned there was a templar involved, so it was probably more complicated than that.

Had Alexius said the spirit possessing Steve had been consumed during the ritual? Anders thought so, but he only really listened when he was talking. He thought he remembered Solas saying something about spirits reforming in the Fade after they were destroyed, too.

“Anders! Pay attention!”

Anders blinked at the shout and realized that Alistair was in front of him, hitting some kind of little demon with his pretentious, Warden-y shield. A long gash down the side of his face was bleeding.

Anders lifted up his hands and channeled healing magic forward. “That would have left a scar. You should really pay more attention. Unless you want a horribly disfiguring scar, though how you travelled with the commander and didn’t end up with a host of those is beyond me.”

Alistair paused long enough to dramatically roll his eyes at Anders before going back to the main fray.

Anders drew his staff and threw a fireball at the writhing mass of shades before tossing more healing around. He paused between spells, hands still held up, mid-cast, and wondered if the spirits he called to help with his healing would appear. That’s how it worked, wasn’t it? They came close to where he was and contributed their energy, right?

He continued to ponder this as the group moved on. They were talking about memories or explosions or something, but he was busy trying to remember Wynne’s lessons about the theory behind spirit healing. Maker, he’d been a terrible student.

“You can give yourself as many silly names as you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you became an abomination and could still make that same choice.”

Anders crashed into Hawke, who had stopped walking and then looked around at the others who were all now staring at him. “Was it talking about me? I wasn’t listening. It’s a demon. Rule number one: don’t listen to anything it says. Honestly, it’s almost as if some of you aren’t even mages.”

No one laughed. People rarely did. With a put upon sigh, Anders continued following after the group. The little fear shades were coming in greater numbers the further they travelled and Anders had a lingering suspicion that something particularly nasty was waiting for them up ahead. Afterall, that oily Tevinter clearly had some big scary demon lined up for Clarel to summon.

Ugh, Clarel. Orlesian and stupid enough to fall for this demon army scheme. Why any of the Ferelden wardens followed along with that idea was beyond him. He certainly hoped Nathaniel hadn’t been sacrificed. He owed the man a swift kick in the pants for suggesting Justice get a living host in the first place. Clearly, it was all his fault.

When the spindly-armed fear demon appeared, Anders focused on Lavellan and the other real people in the Fade with him. No helpful spirits appeared that he could see, but healing definitely felt far easier in the Fade. Though maybe that was because they weren’t real injuries, just Fade injuries. Anders scratched his head as he considered that over the dissolving form of the fear demon.

And then the Nightmare demon appeared. It certainly was large. Plenty of arms. And some strange collection of holes that looked like a dried blood lotus pod. The Mother had been scarier, if Anders was being honest. Maybe it could add sagging breasts. His thoughts (and running for the rift) were interrupted by Hawke and Alistair fighting over who was going to be left behind. Irritated and really rather ready to be out of the Fade, Anders interrupted them.

“Everyone is suitably impressed with your heroics. How about we all stop posturing and get back to running? Come on, Alistair, I know Surana made you sleep with Morrigan, but it can’t have been so bad you want to die now. And it’s been ten years!” With that parting shot, Anders jumped through the rift, only to trip over Varric and land face-first on the hard, cracked stones of Adamant fortress. He was so thankful, he nearly kissed it.

A few moments later, Hawke jumped out of the rift, landing on his feet a good yard away, as light on his feet as a halla. Alistair tumbled out, sans griffon shield, just before Lavellan sealed the rift.

Alistair shoved his mangled and bloody (and swordless) sword arm in Anders’ face. “Has he told everyone about that?”

“To be fair, he only told Oghren, and Oghren told everyone.”

The momma cat lounged off to the side, a mouse’s tail propped up by the grass next to her mouth. She was dedicatedly grooming one ear with one eye on the kittens. Anders crouched a yard away and summoned a little spell wisp to bob and weave between the kittens. To his delight, a gray tabby stumbled after the wisp, which wound through the air toward Anders. When it was finally close enough, Anders grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. The wisp fizzled out. “Who’s the cutest little-” he checked, “-boy. That’s you! Yes it is.” He rubbed the kitten against his face. “Do you want to come with me on my adventures in the healing tent? Yes, you do.” He picked up a piece of mint and held it up to the kitten’s face. With a tiny growl, the kitten batted at the mint and then chewed one of his paws. “What do you think about the name Commander Purrana?” The kitten mewled and licked Anders’ hand. With a smug expression, Anders tucked the kitten into the deep inner pocket of his robes before standing. He pointed himself at what he thought was the castle’s main entrance and started walking. After several flights of stairs and climbing over two piles of rubble, Anders found himself decidedly not in the kitchens. In fact, on top of the battlements was one of the furthest places in Skyhold from the kitchens. He looked down at where Commander Purrana’s head was poking out of his robes. “You know, once upon a time, I had a much better sense of direction. But then again, I was also using the Tower as a landmark.” “Anders?” He spun around to face a black-haired man with a smear of paint across his nose that he doubtless thought looked terribly rakish. (It did, but Anders wouldn’t admit that to someone glaring so fiercely.) “If you’re mistaking me for an abomination that looked like what you would get if you crossed me with a sewer nug, we’re calling him Steve and I’m not him.” The glare looked more like bafflement now, which was improvement. “What?” Anders pushed the fluffy kitten head back inside of his robes and then straightened them, though that just made the kitten bulge more obvious. “I was called Anders first, you see. And it’s not fair to me - what is - if everyone keeps calling that chantry destroying abomination my name.” Now the man was clenching his jaw and staring with narrowed blue eyes. Anders eyed the weapon on the man’s back - a wicked polearm that could convincingly pass as a halberd - and put his glorious intellect to work. After a moment, he nodded to himself triumphantly. “You must be Hawke.” “I must be about to stab you through the heart. I told you to never show your face again.” “See, now I know you’re just not listening. You told Steve to never show his face again. You’ve never met me. I’m Anders. Warden of Amaranthine! Slayer of the Mother! Companion of the Hero of Ferelden!” Hawke - or an impersonator who read the Tale of the Champion - drew his staff and summoned magical fire to dance along the blade. He raised it menancingly at Anders. Anders didn’t back away in fear (though this was only because his back was to the edge of the battlement and there was nowhere to back away to).

Varric: Turned into a red lyrium statue Anders: Fed to a cat abomination. Varric: What? Anders: There was a cat, in the tower, Mr. Wiggums. Anders: He got possessed by a rage demon. Anders: Killed three templars. Varric: I can’t make this shit up.

Varric: Why do you run away from bears? Anders: Don’t you know? Anders: Running away is my best skill. Varric: But bears? You’ve kill Pride demons and worse! Anders: You’ve fought Ferelden bears. You should know!

Varric: You have a question, Blondie? Anders: Why didn’t you just send Justice back to the Fade? Varric: You- Sorry, Steve, said there was no way to separate Justice. Anders: Why not use the same ritual the Commander used on Arl Eamon’s boy? Varric: What ritual? Anders: The more I learn about Steve, the less I like him.

Varric: You never explained; what ritual? Anders: Arl Eamon’s son was an abomination. Anders: But like Steve, not a snarly, dripping one. Varric: Let me guess, the Hero of Ferelden was able to unpossess him. Anders: He didn’t even use blood magic.

Varric: So what’s the story with Dalish women? Anders: They’re crazy. Varric: But you don’t even know Daisy, so where’s this coming from? Anders: Ahh, that would be Velanna. Anders: Darkspawn framed humans for the murder of her clan. Varric: Wait, darkspawn framed humans for murder? Anders: You’re never going to get your answers if you keep interrupting with more questions.

Anders: I've always wondered, why is every surface dwarf a merchant or a smith? Varric: You already asked me that. Anders: Oh, alright. Anders: Wait. No I didn’t.