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“You’re not a demon, are you?”
Anders nearly tripped over his feet in his attempt to turn to face the voice’s owner as quickly as possible. He’d spent Maker knew how long--a month at the least, and several months was more likely--alone in that cell. By this point, the demons had given up on subterfuge, let alone on proper introductions before launching into the “your life is terrible, let me possess you” speech. Either this one was slow on the uptake, or… He hadn’t seen another dreamer in this part of the Fade since his first few nights in the cell, but anything was possible, wasn’t it?
“Despite what the Chantry might want you to believe, no,” Anders said, smiling at his visitor. While his opinion was certainly biased by the fact that this was his first potentially non-demonic companion in what had to be weeks, he had to admit that his visitor was rather attractive, in the disdainful nobleman sort of way.
“I’m Anders, and you are…?” he said, extending his hand. The other dreamer didn’t take it. He sighed. “Still suspicious. Fair enough. If you don’t mind, I’ll be over here.”
He nodded, and Anders turned and walked several feet away, his heart sinking with the knowledge that each step took him further away from the only human interaction he’d have for the foreseeable future.
#
“I’m not a mage, you know,” the man said the next time they met in the Fade.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anders said, looking around at the landscape. While it had only changed minutely, Anders had spent enough time in his dream meadow to notice that flowers were beginning to bloom--small, nondescript white poppies, but glaringly obvious to someone who’d spent the better part of a month there. He’d heard that non-mages had some small power in the Fade, but it was strange to see it in action.
“You’d be better off finding someone else to possess.”
“Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m not a demon?”
“Then how do you keep getting into my dreams?”
“I was here first,” Anders said, wishing he didn’t sound so possessive of his dream field. Still, it was all he really had at this point. “I should be asking how you keep getting here.”
“My apologies for intruding,” he said, turning to leave. Anders grabbed his hand.
“Listen. You’re not a demon; I’m not a demon--now that we’ve established that, we may as well get to know each other. Right?” he said, the corners of his smile tense as he waited for a response.
He looked down at Anders’ hand, pursing his lips. Finally he said, “I suppose so.”
Anders wanted to launch himself into his arms. It didn’t matter that this was only the Fade, that he’d be alone in a dark, musty cell when he awoke--he’d found a way to get around his punishment, and not even the templars could take it away from him. “In case you forgot, I’m Anders.”
“Nathaniel,” he said, still looking at their hands.
“I’d ask what brings you here, but, well,” Anders said with a short laugh.
“Has this happened to you before?”
Anders shook his head. “You?”
“I don’t remember,” Nathaniel said, furrowing his brow and frowning. “I almost never remember my dreams.”
“But you remembered seeing me before.”
“Not until I got here again.”
“Huh,” Anders said, letting go of Nathaniel’s hand and sitting in the grass. Nathaniel sat next to him, their hands only centimetres apart. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
Nathaniel smiled, and Anders could have sworn the colour of the grass brightened a fraction. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Anders would have been happy just sitting there in the presence of someone else, but then Nathaniel said, “You’re a mage, aren’t you?”
“I suppose the robes give it away a bit, don’t they?”
Nathaniel chuckled, a dark, rich sound. “Maybe a little.”
Anders shook his head, smiling. “You caught me. So did the templars. You seem like the better option, though.”
“With competition like that, I should be flattered,” Nathaniel said, his tone dry but the slight smile never leaving his face.
“Where are you right now?” Anders said, the words leaving his mouth before he’d had time to think them through. If only he could dream up proper impulse control. “I mean, besides the Fade.”
“The Free Marches,” Nathaniel said, spitting the words out as though they were a bitter herb.
“I’ll trade you,” Anders said, his smile going slightly crooked.
“Where are you?”
Anders shook his head. “Nowhere near as fun as the Free Marches. How long are you--”
But before he could finish his question, Nathaniel had disappeared, leaving him alone in the Fade.
#
“Are you real?” Anders said the moment Nathaniel appeared in the Fade.
Nathaniel blinked. “I should hope so.”
Anders nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in his mind. “Can I test it?”
“How would you do that?”
“Just… Just stay there. It shouldn’t hurt,” Anders said, mentally dredging up all the power he’d been slowly accumulating in the Fade, despite the templars’ decision to dose his meals with magebane. He’d been saving it in case he needed to fend off demons, but surely this was just as important. He stared at Nathaniel, willing some part of him to change--lighter hair, freckles, anything. Nathaniel stayed obstinately constant. Anders grinned and launched himself into Nathaniel’s arms, planting a kiss on his lips before he could stop himself. The kiss ended as soon as it began, Anders pulling away as though Nathaniel’s lips had shocked him. “I’m sorry. I just--”
Nathaniel grabbed Anders’ shoulders and kissed him, slow but insistent as he moved a hand up to Anders’ cheek and wrapped his other arm around Anders’ waist. Anders melted into the kiss, tangling a hand in Nathaniel’s hair and kissing him until his brain informed him that he should be worrying about oxygen at this point. When they separated, Nathaniel kept his hand on Anders’ cheek.
“It figures,” Nathaniel said with a wry smile.
“Mm?” Anders said, still slightly dazed by his newfound knowledge and the kiss.
“My father--” Nathaniel said before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that if he were here, we’d find out if the Fade has its own version of the Free Marches.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Anders said, looping his arms around Nathaniel’s neck. “I’m rather enjoying my not-as-solitary-as-they-thought confinement.”
Nathaniel let out a syllable of laughter and kissed him again. “I’m happy to help.”
#
“And that was the last time they let me participate in the All Soul’s Day play. Apparently it’s blasphemous to insinuate that Maferath was even more friendly with Hessarian than the Chant teaches,” Anders said, grinning and toying with one of the Fade flowers. The field was all but covered with them at this point, and so far Anders’ attempts at braiding them into a crown had failed miserably.
“Strange,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head. “You’d think the Chantry would be more open to new interpretations.”
“Actually, that was the second to last time we had an All Soul’s Day play. After one of the ‘magisters’ tried to defend his use of blood magic as an attempt at getting into character and I escaped during while they were trying to extinguish the set, the templars decided we couldn’t be trusted with plays,” he said, giving up on trying to do anything with the flowers. He looked at Nathaniel. “I think it’s your turn to tell a story.”
Nathaniel pulled Anders close so that his back was pressed to his chest. Running his fingers through Anders’ hair, he said, “When I was a child, I convinced my brother that when you got old enough, you turned into a darkspawn, and that’s why our grandfather walked and acted so strangely. He ran screaming from him for months, and he still gets nervous around the elderly.”
Anders laughed, leaning his head back against Nathaniel’s shoulder. Nathaniel kissed the top of his head and said, “I think I’m starting to wake up.”
Anders turned around to kiss him, stroking the nape of his neck. “See you tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t dream otherwise.”
#
For a brief, wonderful moment, Anders was able to keep his eyes closed and hold the memory of the Fade in the forefront of his mind. But as slowly and steadily as the tide, his awareness of his location crept back into his consciousness. First, it was the cold. The tower had never been the warmest of places, but the catacombs had a chill that buried itself deep in your bones until you had to fight to remember what it was like to be warm. The dark came next, pressing against his eyelids and threatening to gouge out his eyes as they clawed fruitlessly in search of something, anything to see. Last, and most painful, was the isolation. Try as he might, he couldn’t drag the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on his skin out of his subconscious to a place where he could imagine he felt it, and that knowledge cut deeper than the cold ever could. He curled up on himself, praying to an absent god that he could spend the rest of his life asleep.
You could be free of this. We could be stronger than you ever dreamed. They would regret every second they left you locked up in here.
Anders blinked. He must have been more tired than he’d thought, if demons could still speak to him. He shook his head, the mats in his hair rubbing against his scalp. He could make the deal. He could become powerful enough to break free for good, to finally be free. He could find Nathaniel. But if he made the deal, he would never be free. He certainly wouldn’t be anyone worthy of Nathaniel anymore. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him once more.
#
Anders was in Nathaniel’s arms the moment they were both in the Fade.
“Maker, I missed you,” he said, burying his face in the crook of Nathaniel’s neck.
Nathaniel embraced him, squeezing just tightly enough to reassure Anders that he wasn’t alone. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.”
Anders kissed Nathaniel’s neck, his heart nearly stopping for joy when he felt a pulse beneath his lips. They were just in the Fade. It wasn’t real, and yet it was the realest thing he had in his life. A sob escaped his lips as Nathaniel squeezed his shoulder.
He took Nathaniel’s hand and tugged him along as he sat down in the field, running his hands over Nathaniel’s chest once they were both seated. He toyed with the top button of Nathaniel’s shirt, almost but not quite undoing it.
“Nate, I--”
Nathaniel kissed him, holding him as though he were the only real thing in or outside of the Fade. He pulled back just enough to say, “Yes.”
Anders unbuttoned Nathaniel’s shirt, sending several of the buttons flying in his eagerness. He pushed Nathaniel to the ground, kissing every inch of his chest until Nathaniel began to sit up. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, only for Nathaniel to cut him off with a kiss.
“Your robes,” Nathaniel said, running a thumb up and down Anders’ neck.
Anders nodded and began pulling them off, stopping in shock when Nathaniel placed his hands on his ribs, fingers just barely ghosting over his flesh. Once he’d managed to breathe normally once more, Anders resumed disrobing. By the time he’d removed his robes and smalls, Nathaniel was completely undressed.
Nathaniel gently pushed Anders down onto the ground, his fingers still just barely touching him. Anders pulled him down on top of him and into a kiss, holding him until he thought the physical contact would drive him mad.
“I don’t suppose you could dream up any lubrication?” Nathaniel said before pressing a light kiss to Anders’ hip.
It was a bad idea. The demons hadn’t stopped pushing at his mind, even when he was awake, and he could at least try to use his power to escape the next time the templars pushed food into his cell. But even as those thoughts ran through his mind, he knew he’d already made his choice. He took Nathaniel’s hand, drew upon the small amount of mana he’d managed to hoard, and performed a grease spell.
Nathaniel smiled, kissed his hip one more time, and began preparing him. The act took twice as long as it could have, Nathaniel stopping periodically for them to kiss until the passion driving their actions threatened to overwhelm them.
It started off with slow, gentle rocking, gradually growing in speed and desperation with every brush of skin against skin. It was sloppy, loving kisses and hands tangled in hair as each thrust punctuated gasped declarations of love.
After, as they lay chest to chest on the ground, Anders working the tangles out of Nathaniel’s hair while Nathaniel stroked his hip, Anders said, “See you tomorrow?”
Nathaniel smiled and kissed him. “Do you have to ask?”
#
The cell door creaked open just as Anders began to exit the Fade. Before he was fully aware of what was happening, he was manhandled into a standing position and practically dragged out into the rest of the tower.
The rest of the day was spent slowly acclimating to life outside of his cell (it was so bright and loud. How had he lived with that before?), joking to the best of his ability while already planning his next escape. How exactly could one get to the Free Marches from Kinloch Hold?
He found himself unable to sleep that night, each snore and breath from the other mages as loud as thunder. Even as he buried his head under his pillow and tried to force himself into drowsiness, sleep slipped further out of his grasp.
He was out of the tower the next day, sprinting madly in the first direction he saw and running until his legs buckled beneath him and each breath burned in his throat like liquor. Through some miracle of the Maker, he managed to evade capture until almost a fortnight later, when some passing templars caught him outside of an ancient fortress. A horde of darkspawn and one incredibly kind Warden Commander, he was as free as he could get. And that was how he found himself following the Warden Commander down to the holding cells--he should have made it clearer how much he hated dungeons--and face to face with Nathaniel Howe.
“Nate,” he said, taking his hand once he’d been conscripted and let out of the cell.
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”
Anders paused, mouth agape as his smile slowly died. It had to be a joke, right? But as he studied Nathaniel’s face for any sign of mischief and found nothing but blank confusion, his heart broke. Nobody could be that good of an actor.
He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Never mind. I must have confused you for someone else.”
Maybe he had mistaken him for Nathaniel. It was possible, right? But as Nathaniel spoke to the Warden Commander, the suspicion in his heart grew into certainty that threatened to turn him to stone. He excused himself from supper and went to bed early, wondering how it was possible for freedom to feel worse than solitary confinement.
Of course he’d end up in that blighted field. Some of the poppies had disappeared, but it was still very much his and Nathaniel’s field. He collapsed in the grass, tearing poppies out by the fistful and tossing them into the weak breeze.
“Anders?”
He stood, dropping his current handful of flowers as he turned.
“Nate,” he said, his voice weaker than the wind.
Nathaniel stood inches away from him, looking as though he’d heard the Chant of Light for the first time. “It was you, wasn’t it? In Vigil’s Keep today.”
Anders nodded, closing the gap between them and draping his arms around his neck. “Will you remember this in the morning?”
Nathaniel wrapped his arms around Anders’ torso and said, “I will, I promise.”
And the next morning, he did.