Fic: News (T, Short, DA2 spoilers)
Sep. 10th, 2011 04:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenticularstudy{Amell's reaction to DA2's big finale, as a friend of Anders.}
~o~
The Anderfels, shortly after the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry
Of course she's heard the news. Everyone has.
He almost wants to pretend that he doesn't hear the sound of very carefully muffled sobbing - almost like someone has a fist in their mouth - coming from their room, but the decent part of him, the part that makes him... well, him, just can't. He's only ever seen her cry once, after the announcement that one of them would have to die to kill the archdemon. It nearly tore him apart.
He stops and listens, aching to comfort her, but trying to ascertain how bad the situation is first. He hears quiet muttering. "You idiot. How could you do this to me? It was always run, always, never fight. In the Tower, you always talked your way out of it. How could you? You bastard, you bastard!"
He's heard enough. He enters the room, thanking the Maker he's only wearing splintmail for training today - heavy plate does not make it easy to hug someone.
Morgana is sitting on the edge of their bed, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. She looks up when she sees him come in, then goes back to staring at her lap.
He sits beside her, putting an arm round her waist and pulling her to him. "Shhh..."
"I thought I knew him, but... there were people in the Chantry, and he just didn't care. I never thought - the bastard was my friend, my friend, and I knew nothing. It's Jowan all over again..."
He takes her face in his hands. "What he did was..." He looks away from her for a moment - there is no need to say the words, his expression makes his opinion clear - then looks her in the eyes. "But it was not your fault. Not. Your. Fault. You couldn't have known. Please..."
She begins to calm down, still hyperventilating slightly but no longer crying. It's been a long day for both of them, and fatigue begins to catch up with them. There are new Wardens to train, and paperwork - Maker, the paperwork - but it can wait one night.
"Love you," she murmurs, as sleep overtakes her.
The sun rises to the sight of the two Wardens asleep in each other's arms.
He almost wants to pretend that he doesn't hear the sound of very carefully muffled sobbing - almost like someone has a fist in their mouth - coming from their room, but the decent part of him, the part that makes him... well, him, just can't. He's only ever seen her cry once, after the announcement that one of them would have to die to kill the archdemon. It nearly tore him apart.
He stops and listens, aching to comfort her, but trying to ascertain how bad the situation is first. He hears quiet muttering. "You idiot. How could you do this to me? It was always run, always, never fight. In the Tower, you always talked your way out of it. How could you? You bastard, you bastard!"
He's heard enough. He enters the room, thanking the Maker he's only wearing splintmail for training today - heavy plate does not make it easy to hug someone.
Morgana is sitting on the edge of their bed, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. She looks up when she sees him come in, then goes back to staring at her lap.
He sits beside her, putting an arm round her waist and pulling her to him. "Shhh..."
"I thought I knew him, but... there were people in the Chantry, and he just didn't care. I never thought - the bastard was my friend, my friend, and I knew nothing. It's Jowan all over again..."
He takes her face in his hands. "What he did was..." He looks away from her for a moment - there is no need to say the words, his expression makes his opinion clear - then looks her in the eyes. "But it was not your fault. Not. Your. Fault. You couldn't have known. Please..."
She begins to calm down, still hyperventilating slightly but no longer crying. It's been a long day for both of them, and fatigue begins to catch up with them. There are new Wardens to train, and paperwork - Maker, the paperwork - but it can wait one night.
"Love you," she murmurs, as sleep overtakes her.
The sun rises to the sight of the two Wardens asleep in each other's arms.
