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To my fellow Nathaniel/Anders fans:
There hasn’t been some super awesome discussion and/or fic about the fact that Nathaniel is for burning Amaranthine down in the endgame and Anders is for saving it, is there? I mean, the Commander can persuade either of them the other way with a high enough skills check, but now I wonder.
I mean, there’s been discussion about Anders’ statements about not wanting to turn his back on the possibility that even one innocent person is alive, and then his actions in DA2. There’s also been discussion about the fact that Delilah may be still in the city and Nathaniel is still saying to burn it.
(But this might be what he says whether or not his personal quest is completed.)
But has anyone possibly written fic of them talking to one another about this? I am terribly curious now.
Nathaniel/Velanna of course :x
I don’t understand
not that I’m complaining mind you
"I’m kind of occupied right now, your lordship…"
"I have twelve genlocks bearing down on me right now, with a side dish of hurlock. A fireball would be greatly appreciated. NOW.”
"I…" Anders paused to catch his breath. "…have a straggler to deal with…" Summoning all his remaining mana reserves, he froze the ogre just as its filthy maw opened inches from his face. Crunching up his nose at the ogre’s breath, he mentally thanked the Warden for forcing him to train in weapons. He loathed it and had complained endlessly, but it allowed him now to pull out Vigilance and tap the ogre lightly on the nose, shattering it into a blizzard of ice shards.
"And now I’m out. Give us a song of valor, be a good chap."
What followed would be spoken of with horror by the companions as long as they fought the ‘spawn. Cranking out a vicious burst shot to the nearest genlocks - terrifyingly close - Nathaniel put his head back, braced himself and let out the most tuneless, gargling ululation Anders had ever heard. It was worse than that time he’d been locked up in a holding cell in Highever, and the drunk in the next cell had been wailing a tune that was half “Barbara Allen” and half “hurlock being eviscerated by a bear”. For seven fucking hours.
But, it did the job - Anders could feel his mana rushing in, and he allowed the approaching spawn to get closer.. closer (“any time you feel like contributing, mage" growled Nathaniel) until, less than a man’s height away from them, he had enough to unleash an inferno directly in front of them, turning the humans’ skin pink and hot, but making the genlocks scream and flail at themselves, blackening and stumbling. Nathaniel let off a hail of arrows to take out the last holdouts, and finally, the path was clear.
Stumbling past the archer, Anders nevertheless could not resist. “Come around to my bunk tonight, your grace. I’ll see if I can make you make that noise again.”
"Given your facility with weapons, I’m quite sure you can make that noise yourself.”
Anders was too exhausted to work out if Nathaniel actually meant that as a double-entendre.
Ages ago, someone posted a video of Nathaniel Howe doing bard warcries in battle (and sounding absolutely horrific). Now, I check the wiki and Howe doesn’t seem to canonically HAVE bard skills. I JUST BASED AN ENTIRE FICLET ON HOWE HAVING @#$% WARCRIES GODDAMNIT
So… what the hell was the video? A mod where someone’s given him warrior warcries?
(This is my fic, written for Iapetus. She has been having a rough time lately and you should show her some love. I’m so glad you liked it - Nanders is not one of my ships and I know I didn’t quite give you what you wanted!)
“Are you sure? With Fenris? We’re likely to end up with more casualties on our own side with those two.”
Hawke paused, considering it. “I suppose we could swing past Merrill’s place. Assuming she hasn’t actually started howling at the moon.”
Isabela punched him in the arm. “There is nothing wrong with Merrill. Come on, let’s find her. It’s closer to the Alienage from here, anyway.”
* * *
A runner had appeared in the clinic, very red faced, with a message to be at the alcove near the Chantry at high noon. Anders often received anonymous messages – not much point having a mage underground if you advertised – but they usually led to the Docks or somewhere equally seedy, where a man could undertake shady activities in the complete privacy of thousands of other people.
So he entered the square warily, avoiding the actual alcove and trying to pose as a lost Lowtowner enjoying the brilliant sunshine. He could not avoid scanning the area for templars or even guards, and he just about voided his bowels when a low voice far too close for comfort growled “Anders”.
He was trying to pretend that he hadn’t just jumped an inch into the air when the part of his brain responsible for managing knee-tremblers in darkened corridors recognised the voice. “Nathaniel.”
“I was wondering who would send me an anonymous note to meet in the town square at high noon. Never thought you went in for the cloak and dagger stuff,” the archer rasped, sounding like he’d been gargling with rusty nails.
Anders was about to say “I didn’t- “ when he had a flash of insight about who would go in for the cloak and dagger stuff, and why.
“Why don’t we get a drink, catch up? It’s been ages since I was able to talk to you without an emissary breathing down my neck. I know a place right nearby…”
Nate gave him a look that could have been a glare or a squint into the sun. “I’m sure it’s a complete coincidence that we’re right near the rear entrance to the Blooming Rose.”
“Hey, the Rose has a very well-stocked bar! I happen to know that - “ Nate held up a hand to stop Anders from enumerating every single liqueur including the green one that hadn’t been touched since Perrin Threnhold was a lad.
“My time in the wardens has given me an appreciation for not fucking around. Lead on.”
* * * *
Some hours later, his face stuck in Anders’ armpit and in that peculiar good mood that follows being firmly and vigorously fucked, Nate mused “It’s a good thing I can’t knock you up. You’d give birth to a giant beak.”
“Why do I have to be the one who gets knocked up?” Anders tried to joke, but it fell flat to his own ears, just another complaint of the long list of complaints he had since setting that barn on fire all those years ago. He turned awkwardly to face Nathaniel.
“What happened to us? You’ve turned into a merry jokester and I’ve become a humorless arsehole. Don’t pinch, you had a pole up your arse bigger than mine when we first met.”
Nathaniel brought a hand up to stroke Anders’ hair, matted and spiked from their exertions. “We don’t have much time.”
Ten years ago, Anders might have said “Well, yes, Madame Lusine is about to hurl us out bare-arsed unless we come up with another sovereign,” but now he just nodded. “The nightmares?” Nate shook his head.
“It’s more than that. With the darkspawn factions and the Veil tearing like a bride’s halfslip everywhere you look… the tinder’s been lit somewhere. Now we’re just waiting to see how long the fuse is.”
Anders went silent for a few seconds. When Nathaniel was just about starting to worry he finally said “People are going crazy here. Not just the normal “living in fear of oppression” crazy, the “my house is built right on top of a veil tear” crazy. I didn’t know non-mages could be possessed by demons… I mean, it makes sense if you think about it, but I don’t even get vindictive pleasure from it. It makes things just more… random.”
“Well, now I have something else to look forward to. Instead of a slow, wasting disease I can be immediately possessed by a desire demon. Lovely.”
Anders smiled. “Well, at least I can protect you from the desire demon.”
Oh my god this is fabulous. Thank you thank you!
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