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Cut The Rose 6

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Fenris didn't need to look at Hawke to know he was brooding again.

The elf stood slightly behind and to one side of the high-backed wooden chair, one hand resting casually on the chair-back. He stared down from the dais at the group of nobles with a faint air of bored disdain.

Hawke had been wrangling the nobles most of the morning, dealing with their complaints, much as he had the previous day, the day before that, and pretty much ever since the last of the templars had been driven out of Kirkwall. Hawke had been unequivocally and unanimously elevated to the position of Viscount, and since then he'd been preoccupied with politics.

In the four months since the uprising, Hawke had lost his cheerful demeanour; it seemed a part of him had died with the apostate. He dressed all in black, took his meals alone, and he seemed to be eternally under a black cloud, his blue eyes dark, his mood sombre.

The companions had all gradually deserted him. Isabela had disappeared less than a day after Anders' death, taking ship on the first boat out of Kirkwall. Sebastian had departed soon afterwards when it became clear that Hawke sought not merely to protect the mages but to drive the Chantry clean out of the city. Merrill had left with most of the elves in the Alienage to the Maker only knows where. Varric had been increasingly making himself unavailable, busy with Guild matters. Aveline had departed with Donnic back to Lothering.

Only Fenris had remained, though the elf himself could not have said why he stayed. Perhaps because he had nowhere else to go, and Kirkwall was the closest thing he had to a home. And because Hawke asked him to.

Abruptly Hawke shoved himself to his feet. "Enough!" he growled, instantly silencing the two nobles who had been squabbling over some minor bone of contention; Fenris couldn't even remember what it was now, his attention having drifted shortly after it had begun. He didn't know why Hawke bothered to bring him along to these audience sessions; the warrior said the elf's presence intimidated the nobles, but Fenris couldn't see the point – Hawke was intimidating enough just by his own presence alone. The eternal scowl upon his face put off all but the most determined petitioners.

"This audience is at an end. Return tomorrow," Hawke announced, then strode from the room. Fenris strode after him, unable to contain a small smirk as the nobles began to clamour in consternation over being so summarily dismissed like fishwives in a market.

"Andraste's tits, they sicken me – all those bloody idiots babbling, day after day," growled Hawke as he strode through the corridors of the Viscount's Palace. Fenris jogged briefly to keep up then fell into stride beside the warrior.

"I fail to see why you require me at such sessions," remarked Fenris. "You do not need me to keep them in line."

"Maybe I want to share the misery," retorted Hawke; Fenris darted him a sidelong glance, but there was no smile upon Hawke's face.

"If you have no further need of me..." began Fenris; Hawke came to a halt and glanced at the elf, who also halted and turned to him, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

"Stay," asked Hawke quietly. "Please. Come with me."

Fenris inclined his head. "As you wish. Where are we going?"

"I have something I want to show you," replied Hawke, leading them on again.

They left the Palace, Hawke taking the lead towards his own estate. Fenris followed, curious, as Hawke led him down to the cellars of the house, then his eyes widened slightly as he realised where Hawke was taking him.

Hawke was silent the entire time it took them to traverse the length of the secret passage down to Darktown; not for the first time, Fenris found himself wondering just how and why the Amells had felt the need to build such a passageway.

They emerged into a small alley in Darktown, not far from Anders' old clinic. Fenris frowned slightly; he had not been back here since Anders left. He wondered at Hawke's reasons for bringing him down here.

"I've been coming down here once a week for a while now," said Hawke as he led Fenris towards the clinic. "You'll see there have been a few changes."

"I don't -" began Fenris, then fell silent as they emerged around the corner.

The clinic was still there, and there was a large throng of people coming and going. Two mages stood outside, and people had formed orderly queues. As Fenris watched, the two mages talked to each person in the queue before them. Some they merely spoke to briefly then sent away, others were motioned to one side or the other, and some were sent directly into the clinic. Fenris glanced about him with interest as Hawke led him directly to the clinic itself. The mages both nodded to Hawke as he passed; he nodded back to them in answer.

The clinic seemed larger, more sturdily built. "I had it extended and renovated," explained Hawke with a wave of his hand. "The old building was practically falling down and too small. I wanted to build somewhere bigger and better, but Lirene asked that we keep the old site. So we did what we could with it." He pushed open the doors, and Fenris soon saw that the improvements weren't just to the outside of the building.

Inside, the room was large, airy and spacious, the walls clean, the floor covered in smooth stone tiles which Fenris could immediately see were far easier to keep clean than the old dirt floor. Rows of neat, tidy cots lined the room, with two examination areas to one side behind a curtained-off area. There were shelves of potions, herbs and other ingredients, laid out neatly with small labels. There were preparation benches, and a mage was showing her apprentice how to prepare a potion as they entered, whilst another mage was bent over a desk, filling in a ledger; he glanced up and nodded at Hawke as they entered.

Hawke led Fenris towards the small curtained-off alcove at the back of the clinic which had been Anders' room; as they approached, a mage lifted aside the curtain and Fenris saw a young woman knelt beside the worn, broken cot where Anders had slept. The woman's head was bowed in prayer; as Fenris watched, she rose to her feet and made a curious gesture, pressing her hand to her heart, then her forehead, then she kissed her hand and held it palm out towards something upon the wall before turning away.

She bowed to Hawke as she passed them. "Blessings of the Healer, Messere," she murmured.

"And with you, Serah," he replied quietly before leading Fenris into the small room.

As the curtain fell behind them, Fenris looked around himself at the place where Anders had made his home in Kirkwall for so many years. It looked much as it had whilst Anders lived there, save for one thing; Anders' staff now hung upon two hooks on the wall. It was this which the woman had gestured towards.

"You have turned his room into a shrine?" asked Fenris, incredulous. Hawke shook his head.

"It had already become one when I first came down here. The Darktowners had come in, cleaned it up, and two apostates were already running a clinic out of here again in his name. I simply provided the funds to rebuild and provision it. I fund it now, in his memory." He gestured to Anders' staff. "I don't know how his staff came to be here; I suspect Varric had a hand in that. I had nothing to do with its becoming an object of reverence, or in the cult that seems to have sprung up around him."

"But you do nothing to dispel it either."

Hawke shook his head. "No. He was much respected in Darktown. I suppose it does no harm."

"Say his name," said Fenris quietly. Hawke shook his head.

"No. I... I don't have the right," said Hawke quietly. "Not a day goes by when I don't regret what I did. I miss him." He gestured about the room. "This... the clinic... I've tried to make amends. I can't bring him back, but.... I can carry on his work. And once a week, I come back here, and ..." He turned slowly back to face the staff, and bowing his head, he buried his face in his hands and began to weep.

Fenris stared at him. "I had no idea...."

Hawke shook his head. "No.... No-one did....Maybe Varric... I told - told no-one though." His voice was muffled by his hands, the words gasped out between quiet sobs.

Fenris quietly laid a hand upon Hawke's shoulder, wrestling inside with his conscience. "If...Anders lived...."

"Don't!" cried out Hawke in torment. "There were rumours... ghost stories... people saying they'd seen him afterwards, walking through Darktown. But that's all they could have been." His shoulders shook as he wept. "I'd give anything to take back that day. I walked away from him, Fenris. I stabbed him and then I walked away. I left him to die alone. Oh Maker, how could I have done that to him? I must have been insane. I would give anything – anything – to bring him back."

"Hawke...."

Hawke lifted his head, and stared in surprise at the guilty look upon the elf's face.

"They were... not stories," the elf said quietly. "Anders... lived."

"What are you saying?" breathed Hawke, clutching at the elf's shoulders. "I killed him, we burned his body upon the pyre...."

Fenris shook his head. "We burned a body whose face had been battered beyond all recognition by vindictive templars, Hawke. We recognised him only from his hair and the clothes he wore."

"He... Anders... he lives?" breathed Hawke, incredulously. He stared into Fenris' eyes, searching his face. His blue eyes chilled to ice and narrowed as comprehension dawned. "You knew. You knew he lived."

Fenris nodded. The next moment he reeled backwards as Hawke's blow knocked him backwards.

"How dare you!" he roared. "You knew, and you never told me? You let me think him dead these past months?"

"And what would you have done, Hawke?" growled Fenris as he straightened, touching his jaw with a slight wince; a dark bruise was already forming, and blood was tricking down his chin from his split lip. "He feared you would come after him to finish what you had started."

"You saw him? You spoke?"

"We spent one last night together," replied Fenris quietly. "He was bound for the Deep Roads."

Hawke groaned and turned away. "That's what Varric meant," he murmured. "He mentioned something about the Legion; I had no idea what he was on about. He was trying to tell me...." he spun on his heel. "When did he go?"

"The second day after the uprising," replied Fenris.

Hawke groaned in dismay. "Do you think he made it?"

"If anyone could survive the Deep Roads alone, it would be Anders," replied Fenris.

Hawke stood with his head bowed, for long moments, then glanced up at Anders' staff before turning to look at Fenris.

"If he lives, then I will find him," he vowed.
Hawke learns that Anders is still alive.
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