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sulky-valkyrie · 3 months

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Happy Friday!! For DADWC, maybe "I thought you said we had something worth fighting for- was that just another lie too?" for Anders/Nathaniel? 🥺

haiiiiiiii Gin, have a sequel to this for @dadrunkwriting

screenshot yoinked from this video, which is a delightful animated banter compilation

Trusting you was a mistake.

Anders’ parting shot and rage in his voice would've broken Nate's resolve if Loghain hadn't grabbed his elbow. This contingency plan had been his wretched idea, brought up last night while they'd listened to his frantic pacing one room over. Anders had said getting Karl out was the goal, that he'd burn the city down to see him free, so Nate had agreed to it as a last resort.

A last resort. Not a bargaining chip to be tossed out at the merest hint of disagreement. He barely heard, barely cared about Loghain and the Knight Captain's conversation as they walked through the same gate Anders had been dragged through moments before.

“There's a list of the recently Harrowed in the Knight Commander’s –”

“Not necessary,” Loghain interrupted. “I want someone seasoned. A known quantity. Already trained, not some barely housebroken robe barely able to tie his boots.”

Anders was more than that, you bastard. He is more.

The Knight Captain cleared his throat. “Traditionally, Wardens recruit from the Circle those who haven't yet proven themselves assets due to the risks of losing such valuable skills.”

Nate opened his mouth to snarl that they aren't assets, they're people, but Loghain stepped on his foot, grinding his mailed boot against the bone with an insincere apology, before sighing at the Knight Captain. “A spirit healer should more than make up for any loss of revenue. I want a list: men who've been Harrowed for at least five years with no disciplinary history.”

“Men only?” The Knight Captain's eyebrow arched up curiously. “Are they better Wardens than women?”

Nate briefly entertained a fantasy of watching Velanna melt his eyeballs from his sockets as Loghain made up some drivel about recruitment quotas. In truth, men made less dangerous Wardens, not better ones, but darkspawn breeding habits simply weren't a thing to discuss with the uninitiated.

The Knight Captain sighed and changed course. “Elsa would know best.”

“A moment.” Loghain paused to fish a sealed letter out of his pouch. “Give that to our former companion.” He glanced at the Knight Captain. “I assume he's been taken to your holding cells?”

The wax seal was imprinted with Brosca’ own signet (a stylized middle finger) and it wasn't addressed to Anders, but Nate. He took the letter and he hid a frown. This hadn't been in the plan. In fact, they'd barely had a plan at all: trade Anders for Karl if they had to, then break Anders back out. Details hadn't been important when they'd discussed hypotheticals last night, but now, the hypotheticals had become practicals, and only Loghain seemed to have any idea what was going on. “Yes, ser.” He glanced at the Knight Captain, then quickly away. The expression on his face when he'd cast that smite on Anders had been nothing short of cruel glee, more sickening to see than the way Anders had gone gray and stumbled into his captors’ grip. “Where are the cells?”

“Up the right, down the hall, and on the left.”

Nate beat a hasty retreat. An older Templar with steely gray hair was guarding the cell, though guarding it was a generous description. He sat on a chair with his back to the opposite wall, arms folded, and head tilted to rest against the stone. “Ready?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“For what?” Nate asked.

The Templar sat up in shock. “Then you’re not…” he trailed off as his eyes traveled over Nate’s Warden armor. “My mistake. Knight Templar Emeric, at your service.”

What the void is going on? “I’d like to speak to An – the prisoner. In private.”

Emeric didn’t argue with him, just stood up and nodded crisply. “Take your time.” With that, he walked out. What the void is going on?

Nate unfolded the letter as soon as the jingle of Emeric’s armor faded down the hall. Another paper was inside, unaddressed and sealed. Nate tucked it behind the message as he read Brosca’s blocky handwriting. And read it again.

Carta smuggles lyrium in through Templar barracks. Been paying out my own pocket so they smuggle some other things out too. Find the one who knows about Harrith. Give the other letter to Anders.

Did Brosca plan this? Or just plan for it? Did Loghain know? Is that why he insisted on coming along? The Commander hadn’t even been at Vigil’s Keep when they’d left, so he must’ve had the letters already.

With more confidence than he felt, Nate approached the bars. “Anders, I’m getting you out.”

The cell didn’t even have a bed. Just two stools and manacles embedded in the walls. Anders sat on one of the stools and stared at the ground. His left arm hung limply at his side, shoulder still dislocated, and, even in the flickering torchlight, Nate could see a bruise darkening his cheek. Maker, he's been in custody barely twenty minutes. “Fuck off, Howe. Just take Karl and go.”

“Loghain's taking care of that.” I hope. “And I'm taking care of you.” I hope.

“Taken care of me enough, I think,” he snarled. “Don't worry, they'll finish the job.” He hiccuped and covered his mouth as he shuddered. “They must lace their magebane with something; even if I had mana, it'd be hard to cast when I feel like I might throw up any minute now. Good thing for the both of us, I guess. Asshole.”

Nate held up the smaller letter. The movement caught Anders’ attention, and he glanced up before flicking his eyes away with a scowl. “Brosca sent this. For you. Loghain had it.” He tossed it into the cell.

Anders watched it flutter to the ground but made no move to pick it up. “Don't want it. Don't want anything from you. Or them.” He turned away, wincing when his arm brushed the edge of the stool. “You didn't have to come. Neither of you. Could’ve just let me go, and probably got the same result: me, gone. But no, you had to tag along, and for what? Just make sure they did it properly? You going to stay and watch the branding? Report back that the infamous apostate and troublemaker is done for?”

“It wasn't –”

“You said you cared, Nate,” Anders interrupted softly. “That we – that Karl and I had something worth fighting for, and, Maker damn me, I believed you. When did it change? Or was it always a lie? Would you rather see me dead than with anyone else? Was that it?”

Nate rubbed his face. “I'm trying to get you out, Anders.”

“You fucking put me here.”

The clank of Templar boots startled them both. “Just read the fucking letter,” Nate hissed before turning around.

It was Emeric again. He was sweating and his cheeks were red, as if he was unused to running. “I said take your time, but the Knight Commander is not happy about your choice of conscriptee.”

Nate glanced down at the message again. “I’m looking for someone who knows Harrith?”

“Thank the Maker,” Emeric sighed. He pulled out his keys and unlocked Anders’ cell. “Nothing to be done about the magebane, I’m afraid. Or your arm.” He frowned as Anders stood up. “Or your face. Wilmod and Mettin are… overzealous. It wasn’t like this when I joined.”

As he stepped out, Anders muttered something that sounded like, “heard that before.” The letter was in his hand and open. He didn't look pleased about its contents, but Nate couldn't care less what he thought as long as it got him out.

That said, he couldn’t simply ignore his injuries. He pulled a small healing potion from his pouch and held it out. Anders stared at it for a few moments then rolled his eyes. “The void am I going to do with that when I can't use my fucking arm?”

Asshole. “Generally, you drink it.”

Emeric shooed them down the hall. “Keep going, lads; the tunnel is behind my wardrobe and it gets harder to move myself every year. You know, I haven't done this since Maddox's – nevermind. Used to be one or two a month before Commander Stannard and her roll calls and mandatory counts twice a day, and when Maurevar was doing it, we could slip out one a week to the Collective.” He paused at the door. “Harrith visited when he was dying. Lyrium, you know. It kills us all eventually, either from too much or not enough. They told me everything. The Carta, the Collective, the deals. It's never been enough, but it was the best we could manage. I took it over… oh, about six years ago. Easy money, I thought. But it wasn't. Instead I just see all the mages I can't help. The ones the Collective doesn't know about. The ones who can't pay the Carta for protection.”

He shook his head as he walked to the edge of the wardrobe and pushed. It barely shifted an inch, and he sighed as he glanced at Nate. “That Warden strength might come in useful right about now.”

Nate stuffed Brosca’s letter in his pocket, then moved next to Emeric. “Where's it going?”

“Just away from the wall.” Emeric stepped back and grabbed a lantern.

It scraped on the floor as Nate shoved it across the room to reveal a stone archway. It looked like the opening had been plastered over years ago, and he ran his fingers over it skeptically. “Your entrance is lacking.”

Anders snorted. “That's what she said.”

“You think a smuggler tunnel would survive if we just hid it with furniture?” Emeric chuckled. He turned to hand the lantern to Anders, frowned at his limp arm, and set it down on the desk. “It's a rune. Designed by one of the first mages Maurevar helped. Said he learned it from the Wardens.” He pulled a knife off his belt and slashed his hand. “Responds to lyrium infused blood, so only a Templar can open it. And no Templar would be foolish enough to wound himself in the presence of an apostate, of course.” He cut the back of his wrist, then smeared it on his fingers before touching them to seven spots on the wall. It glowed green, then vanished into mist as he gestured toward Anders. “The tunnel leads down to a small harbor. Take the skiff and follow the shore away from Kirkwall until you reach a cave marked with dwarven carvings. The Carta know the boat, and will take you wherever you need to go.”

Nate grabbed the lantern. “Let's go, then.”

Anders shook his head. “Get Karl out. I'll meet you at the inn, Andraste willing.”

“You're just – what if it's a trap?” Nate spluttered, then glanced at Emeric. “No offense intended, of course, just – Anders, are you certain?”

“Get. Karl. Out.” He pressed the note into Nate's palm. “We'll figure the rest out later. Or not. I don't care.”

He looked down. More blocky script.

If he doesn’t bring you back, he dies. My word as a thief.

“Well,” Nate mumbled. “And here I was thinking death threats were behind us.”

Anders grinned sadly. “Welcome to the Wardens.” With that, he ducked under the archway and disappeared into the dark.

#da drunk writing circle #prompt fills #dragon age #anders #nathaniel howe #loghain mac tir #nanders #nathaniel x anders #too many wardens #the gallows #breakouts #rescues

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