#inquisitor!anders

Truth be told, Anders hadn’t relished the idea of sharing a tent with anyone. With the mages from Redcliffe trailing along behind them, he’d done his best to see everyone properly outfitted with at least the basics, including any extra tents the Inquisition scouts brought along.

That unfortunately left few to go around. When presented with the choice between sharing with the Seeker who still has to curb her homicidal impulses around him, a Qunari spy, or Varric (who snores like a bellows at the best of times and still can’t always look him in the eye), Dorian Pavus isn’t the worst person to be crammed in with. His only other option had been to sleep out in the open as Solas and some of the scouts had chosen; Anders is used to roughing it but he isn’t a masochist. He likes a nice, warm – if cramped – tent and not waking up covered with dew.

That, and he likes to think he’s built up a rapport with the Tevinter mage over the last days; enough to trust the man not to slit his throat in the night. That horrendous jaunt to the future at least ended with a powerful ally on the Inquisition’s side, and that’s all Anders can really bring himself to say on the matter.

He’s already had to recount those nightmarish events for Pentaghast and the others; no doubt he will have to repeat himself to Josephine, the Nightengale, and Rutherford when they return to Haven.

Pavus will help, certainly. He had filled in some of the blanks for Anders’ companions when Anders couldn’t find the words to explain the horror of their time travel – let alone the technicalities.

One day, Anders will ask him to describe how time magic works… the theory must be complex.

When the man is awake, of course.

The Tevinter is lying on his side with his bedroll tucked tight around him, covering everything but his head, his face cushioned against his pack. As Anders watches, Pavus snuffles, turning his face into his makeshift pillow and rather neatly folding the left side of his mustache in half against his cheek. Anders’ lips twitch up against his will.

Between the disarray of his mustache and the smears of kohl around his eyes, Pavus looks far… softer. Less the haughty Tevinter nobility, and less hunted, too.

Anders recognizes the look of a runaway when he sees one. He doesn’t know Pavus’ story yet, but Anders finds himself wondering, taking in his ruffled appearance, if the man will deign to tell him. Maker knows he could use a few more people to talk to, to take his mind off this forsaken mess if only for a minute.

Anders only realizes he’s been staring when the Mark tugs, hard enough that his hand spasms. He doesn’t hiss but he does shut his eyes, right hand wrapping around his wrist as if he can stave off the pain that way. Touching the Mark itself or trying to heal it only makes the tugging worse, so all he can do is clutch at himself and wait for it to subside.

Justice rumbles again, angry at his inability to do more to help.

It’s fine, he assures the spirit. We’ve both weathered worse.

“Does it hurt?”

Anders nearly jumps out of his bedroll, unable to suppress the surprised noise he lets out as he turns to meet Pavus’ eyes. The smears of kohl around them only add to his bleary look, and Anders desperately stomps down on the part of him that starts going on again about the softening of Pavus’ face by the watery light.

“What?” he asks, the question flying over his head entirely.

“Your hand, does it pain you?” Pavus’ voice is quiet in deference to the early hour and the small space between them, but the words are filled with a concern not entirely in line with what Anders has observed of Pavus so far.

That makes Anders hesitate. Pavus has shown himself to be brash and confident – rightly so, considering his command of time magic and necromancy. The man hasn’t lied to him yet, and he’s also taken up firmly against whoever the “Elder One” is, to the tune of saving Anders’ life. Surely, Anders can afford to let slip a little of his own doubt, if Dorian is willing to hear him out.

“It hasn’t stopped hurting since the Breach opened,” he admits, watching the Tevinter’s eyes widen and flicker down to Anders’ hand. Pavus’ brow wrinkles, and Anders tears his gaze away. “I’m not sure even closing it will make it stop, at this point.” He flexes his fingers and Mark flares, crackling with Fade energy. It also sends a spasm of whire-hot fire through his palm that makes his whole hand convulse.

Dorian hisses between his teeth, and Anders isn’t sure if it’s in sympathy or censure when he asks:

“Should you be doing that? It looks… painful.”

Anders snorts as the spasm subsides, letting the Mark go as dormant as it ever gets.

“True. What would my healer say? Oh, wait...” He raises his eyebrows.

Pavus chuckles, himself already the beneficiary of Anders’ magic after one of the Venatori in the future had gotten a lucky strike.

“Does your spirit healing not work on it?” he continues, evidently unable to hold back the curiosity any longer.

“Not really. As far as Solas and I can figure, it’s a direct link to the Fade. It just sucks up and reflects any magic cast directly on it.” He sighs. “It’s why Josephine and the Nightengale wanted to recruit the mages in the first place.” Pavus’ eyebrow quirks and he explains. “Ah, they’re… advisors? Part of a council, I guess, if we include me.” And he’s not looking forward to the absolute fucking fit Rutherford is going to throw when he hears what happened; how Anders gave the mages a place in the Inquisition as allies.

As if Anders would ever do anything else.

“Anyway, we think with the boost in power it should be able to close the Breach.”

“I see. You have no way of testing this beforehand, I assume?”

“No. But we saw what’s at stake if it doesn’t work.”

They share a look that goes on for moments longer than Anders really means it to.

Pavus breaks their stare, and Anders isn’t sure if he imagines the way that he swallows before sitting up with a stretch.

“Aren’t we both delightful this morning? Shall we change the topic to something less heavy. What’s for breakfast, perhaps?” He sits up as much as he can in the tent’s cramped confines, dragging his pack around to rifle through it.

“Pavus,” Anders says before he can think better of it, and the man’s head whips back around.

“Call me Dorian, if you please. ‘Pavus’ is what I hear right before one of my old Circle peers or instructors descends on me,” he says, a wry smile blooming across his lips, and Anders catches himself staring again.

“Dorian, then. I just wanted to say thank you – for everything that happened in Redcliffe. I wouldn’t have made it out without you and I don’t think I’ve said it, yet.”

Dorian blinks, but the edges of his smile become less sharp, a tension disappearing that Anders notices only in its sudden release.

Most of my ideas have to do with Anders himself, and how he'd deal with living yet another lie, and the pressure of being considered an actual leader. I'm also tickled by the whole "spirits being flung back into the Fade" aspect of the Temple Boom, because if you are a mage with a spirit passenger, and you're smack in the middle of an event like that? You might end up having to deal with all this new responsibility while also trying to comprehend who you are when there's just you in your head.

(He'd also become immediate besties with Solas. Which would be fun, and great, and ironic and painful, in the end.)

I'm also really giddy about how Varric's frequent bitter comments about Anders would land when the actual guy is right there but can't say a word in his defence because he's supposed to be someone else.

... oh, yeah, and in this scenario Anders is 100% not introducing himself as the mage who blew up a Chantry and started a war, but has adopted this whole fake persona that he needs to keep up, since there are quite a few people in the Inquisition who might want him dead. But then most of the inner circle are either not-stupid, or have met him before, so the whole "pretending I don't know that you know, while you're under the impression that no one else knows, even though I know they also know" farce of it delights me.

And then this whole (not so) secret identity thing is also where Nathaniel comes in! There's so much delicious Grey Warden content in the game, and great opportunities to throw in one Warden among all the rest of them, and set up a nice little chance meeting (because that's clearly the only way I can get these two together post DA2; see: an embarrassing portion of my fics so far). Again: another guy who knows, but doesn't actually know he isn't supposed to know because he doesn't know about the whole entire situation (yet). (Also: Nate (and Anders tbf) looking at Blackwall like "... sure, my guy. Sure." is funny as fuck.)

(Also, re: Warden stuff: Anders having to deal with Corypheus and all this fake Calling bullshit while keeping it together because his Inquisitor persona isn't supposed to be a Warden either? Delicious.)

So that's... my initial thoughts. I technically have the makings of two (or even three) different stories in there, so my biggest thing right now is to figure out how I'm going to bring it all together, and which darlings I should off.

And as for Amaranthine and HoF: I honestly haven't decided yet.

My two "canon" HoFs are my beloved dwarven rogue Hilde, but she made the ultimate sacrifice and never got to meet Anders, and my beloved Augustus (just Gus for short) Cousland (who's also a rogue, which is truly ironic, because I really don't like playing rogues) who's been the HoF in pretty much everything I've written so far. I suspect he's the one who gets dragged in again, because I love him and his stupid (literally: he's a bit... gullible, and silly) face. He's also exactly the kind of guy who goes "yes, and" to all of Awakening!Anders' shenanigans, much to everyone else's deep disappointment.

In this world state I feel like Awakening!Nate and Anders were "friendly" in they way they are in canon, but my Anders will also definitely be a little weird and mayhaps a tad horny about Nathaniel Howe, no matter what setting I put him in. I also feel like Nate has/had similar thoughts but is/was deeply annoyed by them.

... so, uh, this is what I have when I "haven't thought about it much". And honestly, I have written two different versions of the beginning of the story, but neither one of those is fully what I want to go with.