fic: Broken Arrows (3/4 Run Rabbit)
Broken Arrows
Summary: Some things can be reclaimed.
A/N: Anders/Nathaniel, Anders/f!Tabris
bioware owns these two. if it weren't for oc's, anders and nate would be my otp
And head up dear, you're shallow and blind
And head up dear, the rabbit might die
Because I'm putting the boot in tonight
The Twilight Sad (And She Would Darken the Memory)
“The Commander will be glad to know you’re alive.”
Anders scoffs before he can stop himself. When he looks back at Nathaniel the rogue is shaking his head at the predictability of his reaction, his eyes half-stuck in their roll. Carver speaks to his brother over the bodies of the darkspawn that had swarmed him earlier.
Nathaniel wipes his brow with the back of his hand, bending to pick up the arrows still useable.
He waits for the question he knows will come. He didn’t spend a year sleeping on the other side of the same room with this man without knowing just what to expect. Anders’ hair is shorter though he still pulls it back. It’s with a different tie now, and Nathaniel tries not to stare at the mage for too long.
He’d always felt it back then.
Sure enough Anders turns around, his face a little less brash and voice softer. “Have you seen her?” Nathaniel catches the look Anders sends towards Carver’s older brother and the rogue straightens. So it hasn’t been a lonely five years for him.
“Not recently.” He likes the way Anders’ eyes narrow as he tries to work that one out himself.
Nathaniel swings his quiver around, depositing the handful of arrows in. They’ll come in use later - he knows Stroud has no intention of returning to the surface any time soon. He comes to the next Hurlock body and twists out one of the many arrows sticking out of its back like a prickly hedgehog. The blonde dwarf Anders travels with is fixing broken bolts into his own quiver, laughing with a Warden.
Anders drops to his knees and begins pulling out arrows along with Nate. “I guess she has Ser Pounce-a-lot then.”
“Actually…” Nathaniel examines the bloodied head of the arrow he worms from the Hurlock’s shoulder.
“Oh,” Anders moans, looking at the rogue. “Please don’t tell me Oghren has him.”
Nathaniel smiles at the pleading look on Anders face, satisfied with the clean state of his arrows and not his friend’s misery, or so he tells himself.
“Oghren couldn’t even take care of his own children. I highly doubt Ari would leave your cat with him.”
Anders looks relieved and continues to yank out arrows.
“For some reason she cares about your stuff.”
“Ser Pounce-a-lot isn’t stuff!”
Nathaniel rolls his eyes but stays silent, twisting the last arrow out. He looks over to Anders’ small pile and sees the mage’s hands are steady though he continues to shift the arrows around.
“Why did you leave?”
Anders seems surprised that he’s just come out and asked it, but Nathaniel folds his hands over the wood of his bow and waits for the mage’s answer. The blonde looks to the Hurlock before he stands, accidentally snapping one of the rescued arrows in half with his boot.
“Great,” He mumbles, picking up the broken pieces.
The rogue remains unmoved as he watches Anders look at the arrow in despair, unsure how to fix the object.
“Anytime now, Anders…”
The mage drops the arrow and kicks the Hurlock so that it lies on its back, hollow black eyes staring out up at them.
“She didn’t love me.”
Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say. For what feels like several moments he’s actually stunned. Nate stands and pushes his quiver onto his back.
“You’re an idiot.”
Anders’ eyes narrow. It almost feels like they’re back in Amaranthine.
“Do you even know how much trouble you’ve caused? Anders, you think that woman doesn’t love you? There’s no one else she cares for more.” He pushes against the mage’s feathered pauldrons, anger slowly filling him. “How could you possibly think she doesn’t love you!?”
Nate’s hand is quickly brushed aside as Anders looks up to see if Hawke is watching. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s because she loved me so much that she went straight back to the king the first chance she got.” His asinine voice drips with sarcasm and Nathaniel hates that tone the most.
“You’re an idiot.” Nathaniel shoves the mage out of the way. He steps over the Hurlock and moves onto the next, sensing Stroud rousing the others to leave. Anders doesn’t move and Nate knows they’re not done.
“I spent two more years there after you left, Anders. She loves you.”
He can feel Anders’ eyes on him as he works over the Darskpawn. It’s easier to look at the dead creatures face than see his friend’s expression. What he doesn’t already know won’t hurt him, evidently. Anders never knew how he felt and he seems to have done just fine without all of them.
“Only two?” He tries not to feel the sting of the mage’s tone.
“She doesn’t live there anymore.” Nathaniel twists to look up at Anders, apology across his face for his next words. “She went to Antiva.”
Anders goes very still. He blinks once then nods twice and fishes for something in the pouch attached to his belt. Nathaniel pretends to watch the Hurlock as his friend’s shaky fingers desperately delve into the pouch for something he doesn’t begin to understand.
“Here.” Anders’ voice is low and serious when he passes Nathaniel a little wooden ring. The rogue doesn’t recognise it but Anders presses the ring into his palm. “I won’t need this anymore.”
Is it elven? He wonders, turning the ring between his fingers. Anders closes his pouch and something has steeled his posture and jaw.
“I don’t understand.”
Anders shrugs and for a moment Nathaniel sees it, the shadow of the man he once knew; taller, careless. “Neither do I.”
“If this is for her, you should keep it.” Nathaniel offers the ring back, watching Anders’ face carefully.
The mage shakes his head. Gone are the days where he would scratch his neck or stretch his idle arms. Instead in its place are the serious eyes of someone else he recognises just as well, the steady cool hands of a man twice his age. Nathaniel realises that much more has changed with Anders than he first noticed.
“It’s not.”
“She wanted to find you,” he says, encouraging him to take back the ring. If he keeps it he knows it won’t help anyone. He just wants to stay out of it. Nathaniel eyes his friend again and wonders if there will ever be a day when he can say what he really feels outside of dreams and waking Darkspawn nightmares. It’s even harder with five years between them and a woman who isn’t even here.
He wonders if it is the same with Carver’s brother but knows it really isn’t.
“You can give it to her when she catches up.”
Anders doesn’t take the ring but looks back at Hawke, his face a picture of sadness and longing and all number of things Nathaniel has seen on an elf’s face across his dinner no more than two years ago. Nate withdraws his hand and pockets the ring without another word.
“Howe!” Stroud calls out for him and Nathaniel sees Carver rejoining the others.
“Time to go.” He says lowly, his voice unintentionally like gravel. Anders smiles anyway and claps him on the shoulder. Nathaniel tries not to frown as he pulls the mage into a quick embrace. Anders is warm and smells like some strange mixture of sunlight and bandages and when Nathaniel pulls away a heartbeat later he doesn’t regret it.
He’s learned to stop regretting things from watching the two of them.
“Don’t get eaten.” Anders waves, moving back to Hawke.
“Don’t forget,” Nathaniel says and from the split expression on Anders face he knows the mage won’t.
Summary: Some things can be reclaimed.
A/N: Anders/Nathaniel, Anders/f!Tabris
bioware owns these two. if it weren't for oc's, anders and nate would be my otp
And head up dear, you're shallow and blind
And head up dear, the rabbit might die
Because I'm putting the boot in tonight
The Twilight Sad (And She Would Darken the Memory)
“The Commander will be glad to know you’re alive.”
Anders scoffs before he can stop himself. When he looks back at Nathaniel the rogue is shaking his head at the predictability of his reaction, his eyes half-stuck in their roll. Carver speaks to his brother over the bodies of the darkspawn that had swarmed him earlier.
Nathaniel wipes his brow with the back of his hand, bending to pick up the arrows still useable.
He waits for the question he knows will come. He didn’t spend a year sleeping on the other side of the same room with this man without knowing just what to expect. Anders’ hair is shorter though he still pulls it back. It’s with a different tie now, and Nathaniel tries not to stare at the mage for too long.
He’d always felt it back then.
Sure enough Anders turns around, his face a little less brash and voice softer. “Have you seen her?” Nathaniel catches the look Anders sends towards Carver’s older brother and the rogue straightens. So it hasn’t been a lonely five years for him.
“Not recently.” He likes the way Anders’ eyes narrow as he tries to work that one out himself.
Nathaniel swings his quiver around, depositing the handful of arrows in. They’ll come in use later - he knows Stroud has no intention of returning to the surface any time soon. He comes to the next Hurlock body and twists out one of the many arrows sticking out of its back like a prickly hedgehog. The blonde dwarf Anders travels with is fixing broken bolts into his own quiver, laughing with a Warden.
Anders drops to his knees and begins pulling out arrows along with Nate. “I guess she has Ser Pounce-a-lot then.”
“Actually…” Nathaniel examines the bloodied head of the arrow he worms from the Hurlock’s shoulder.
“Oh,” Anders moans, looking at the rogue. “Please don’t tell me Oghren has him.”
Nathaniel smiles at the pleading look on Anders face, satisfied with the clean state of his arrows and not his friend’s misery, or so he tells himself.
“Oghren couldn’t even take care of his own children. I highly doubt Ari would leave your cat with him.”
Anders looks relieved and continues to yank out arrows.
“For some reason she cares about your stuff.”
“Ser Pounce-a-lot isn’t stuff!”
Nathaniel rolls his eyes but stays silent, twisting the last arrow out. He looks over to Anders’ small pile and sees the mage’s hands are steady though he continues to shift the arrows around.
“Why did you leave?”
Anders seems surprised that he’s just come out and asked it, but Nathaniel folds his hands over the wood of his bow and waits for the mage’s answer. The blonde looks to the Hurlock before he stands, accidentally snapping one of the rescued arrows in half with his boot.
“Great,” He mumbles, picking up the broken pieces.
The rogue remains unmoved as he watches Anders look at the arrow in despair, unsure how to fix the object.
“Anytime now, Anders…”
The mage drops the arrow and kicks the Hurlock so that it lies on its back, hollow black eyes staring out up at them.
“She didn’t love me.”
Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say. For what feels like several moments he’s actually stunned. Nate stands and pushes his quiver onto his back.
“You’re an idiot.”
Anders’ eyes narrow. It almost feels like they’re back in Amaranthine.
“Do you even know how much trouble you’ve caused? Anders, you think that woman doesn’t love you? There’s no one else she cares for more.” He pushes against the mage’s feathered pauldrons, anger slowly filling him. “How could you possibly think she doesn’t love you!?”
Nate’s hand is quickly brushed aside as Anders looks up to see if Hawke is watching. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s because she loved me so much that she went straight back to the king the first chance she got.” His asinine voice drips with sarcasm and Nathaniel hates that tone the most.
“You’re an idiot.” Nathaniel shoves the mage out of the way. He steps over the Hurlock and moves onto the next, sensing Stroud rousing the others to leave. Anders doesn’t move and Nate knows they’re not done.
“I spent two more years there after you left, Anders. She loves you.”
He can feel Anders’ eyes on him as he works over the Darskpawn. It’s easier to look at the dead creatures face than see his friend’s expression. What he doesn’t already know won’t hurt him, evidently. Anders never knew how he felt and he seems to have done just fine without all of them.
“Only two?” He tries not to feel the sting of the mage’s tone.
“She doesn’t live there anymore.” Nathaniel twists to look up at Anders, apology across his face for his next words. “She went to Antiva.”
Anders goes very still. He blinks once then nods twice and fishes for something in the pouch attached to his belt. Nathaniel pretends to watch the Hurlock as his friend’s shaky fingers desperately delve into the pouch for something he doesn’t begin to understand.
“Here.” Anders’ voice is low and serious when he passes Nathaniel a little wooden ring. The rogue doesn’t recognise it but Anders presses the ring into his palm. “I won’t need this anymore.”
Is it elven? He wonders, turning the ring between his fingers. Anders closes his pouch and something has steeled his posture and jaw.
“I don’t understand.”
Anders shrugs and for a moment Nathaniel sees it, the shadow of the man he once knew; taller, careless. “Neither do I.”
“If this is for her, you should keep it.” Nathaniel offers the ring back, watching Anders’ face carefully.
The mage shakes his head. Gone are the days where he would scratch his neck or stretch his idle arms. Instead in its place are the serious eyes of someone else he recognises just as well, the steady cool hands of a man twice his age. Nathaniel realises that much more has changed with Anders than he first noticed.
“It’s not.”
“She wanted to find you,” he says, encouraging him to take back the ring. If he keeps it he knows it won’t help anyone. He just wants to stay out of it. Nathaniel eyes his friend again and wonders if there will ever be a day when he can say what he really feels outside of dreams and waking Darkspawn nightmares. It’s even harder with five years between them and a woman who isn’t even here.
He wonders if it is the same with Carver’s brother but knows it really isn’t.
“You can give it to her when she catches up.”
Anders doesn’t take the ring but looks back at Hawke, his face a picture of sadness and longing and all number of things Nathaniel has seen on an elf’s face across his dinner no more than two years ago. Nate withdraws his hand and pockets the ring without another word.
“Howe!” Stroud calls out for him and Nathaniel sees Carver rejoining the others.
“Time to go.” He says lowly, his voice unintentionally like gravel. Anders smiles anyway and claps him on the shoulder. Nathaniel tries not to frown as he pulls the mage into a quick embrace. Anders is warm and smells like some strange mixture of sunlight and bandages and when Nathaniel pulls away a heartbeat later he doesn’t regret it.
He’s learned to stop regretting things from watching the two of them.
“Don’t get eaten.” Anders waves, moving back to Hawke.
“Don’t forget,” Nathaniel says and from the split expression on Anders face he knows the mage won’t.