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"What made you become a healer?" Hawke asked weakly, he winced as he continued, "Not that I'm complaining of course, I'm just curious as to why you didn't choose more offensive magic." Anders had opened his mouth momentarily, his mind searching for a quick, snarky response to this stupid question but found none. He felt the progress in his healing falter ever so slightly so he stayed silent, now opting to fully concentrate on healing Hawke's wounds. He sank back into his thoughts of healing, the Chant of Light his guide to using his Maker-given gifts. He watched as bone mended, sinew reconstructed itself, blood returning to its rightful place and skin slowly reconnecting itself.
Anders sighed, those wounds had been quite intense, it had taken more out of him then he thought. He was covered in sweat and exhausted, he couldn't wait to rest in his filthy little cot and rest. Hawke sat up from the stone bed, he patted his body, touching all of the places where his wounds used to be, making sure everything had been healed. Anders eyed the young enthusiastic mage, joyful in his lack of wounds. The man didn't know even one healing spell, his specialty was elemental magic. Sometimes while in battle, Anders would take a moment in between enemies and watch him as he cast his spells. His movements were so smooth, it almost looked like dancing, as if he were beckoning the Maker to help him cast down his enemies, bribing him with his salacious movements.
His favorite moment was when Hawke had helped him out at the Chantry, when Karl…
Anders couldn't finish his thought without the threat of tears in his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. He quickly cleared it, catching Hawke's attention. "Is everything alright, Anders?" Before he could reply, the younger mage invited him to sit on the bench next to him. Anders silently complied and was genuinely surprised when Hawke gently took his hand and squeezed it, Anders almost immediately withdrew it, it was too soon. Hawke was handsome and very charming, but Anders' heart still belonged to Karl.
Anders straightened his back, and stretched his aching neck, his feelings would be something to take care of once he was alone, "Everything is fine Hawke, just don't get into anymore trouble without me." Hawke grinned mischievously and chuckled, "Me? Get into trouble? Perish the thought, I would never." The healer shook his head, rubbing his temples in disbelief, "Maker's breath, it's a miracle you've gotten so far without a healer." Hawke slightly frowned, "I used to have a healer, you know? My sister… Bethany. She never made it to Kirkwall." Hawke stared blankly at the wall in front of them, "When Father was still alive, he used to say that both of us were like Andraste, my offensive magic was her flaming sword and Bethany soothed people's wounds with her healing like Andraste soothed souls with her words." Anders saw tears well up in Hawke's eyes, Justice murmured, "This one never had the chance to heal, I can feel his pain, his cries unfairly trapped inside his soul. Nothing just about that."
Before he knew it, Anders held Hawke's hand and squeezed it, "Another reason why we shouldn't be taught to hate what was given to us freely by the Maker. When we're taught with love like you were, we mages can make the world a better place." Hawke squeezed his hand back and they sat there silently for a few moments.
"You never did answer my question, do you not know or are you just trying to remain broody and mysterious?" Anders couldn't help but laugh, they were having a moment and Hawke had to ruin it. "He can't take the silence, it reminds him too much of when his father died, when his sister died."
Anders looked at Hawke's hand, he could feel it shaking ever so slightly despite Hawke's efforts to be humorous. He had never really thought about it before, why he chose to heal, it had always felt right. It still felt right, whenever he healed but with time it had become somewhat of a chore. Then he remembered.
"In the Circle, learning offensive magic was encouraged, I had a knack for it. The other mages said that when I passed my Harrowing, that I could probably be trained to fight in battlefields and if I wished, I could probably live outside the Circle if I had caught the eye of some noble, king or military force. I never wanted that, all I wanted was to go back home, to live freely, to love who I wanted, to not have this shame the Chantry forces upon us. So… I ran away."
"What does that have to do with healing?"
"Maker's breath, I'm getting to it." He looked at Hawke, his frown was all but gone. The shit-eating grin Anders had come to love so much had come back. He smiled slightly before facing the wall again and continued his story, "After I ran away a couple of times, Grand Enchanter Irving decided I needed a friend, or rather someone who could keep an eye on me." Anders chuckled, he remembered the first time he had met Karl, the annoyed look of an older sibling forced to do something at their parents' behest. Obviously that had changed rather quickly, but Hawke didn't need to know the details.
"At first we butted heads, arguing about everything and anything. He was so level headed and calm, I was a ball of anger and chaos, lashing out at everyone but, he could see right through me. He quenched the fires within me by just sitting next to me, he saw me for who I was."
Anders looked on, reminiscing the times they had passed together. He felt his cheeks flush as he remembered that one night they snuck out to watch Andraste's tears pour down through the night sky, where they had their first kiss. He remembered how Karl looked into his eyes and ruffled his long hair afterwards. The shooting stars that reflected in those icy blue eyes of his. It had been the start of their love, pity it had ended so abruptly. Anders quickly wiped a tear from his eye as Hawke gently squeezed his hand again.
"Karl was a model apprentice, he was Irving's favorite so, he had access to books apprentices usually never saw until after their Harrowing. We had both grown bored of the endless dronings of elemental magic and their ties to the Maker, so we'd decided to look at some more advanced teachings."
"And then?"
"And then he fell ill, there had been an outbreak of Maker-knows-what in the Circle. There weren't any healers available at the time, so most of us had been told by the Chantry sisters, that this was a punishment from the Maker and to reflect on how magic was a bane, a curse. Nevermind that they had caught whatever it was and were silently moved to the infirmary. The Chantry hall in Kinloch Circle had never been so empty. I, however was determined to help Karl so I studied. I think the tome was called "Spirit Healers: The Silent Hand of Andraste". I could hardly believe my luck when the first spell finally worked, Karl had been coughing relentlessly and as the magic left my fingers, he stopped. He was well again."
"So that's how you became such a talented spirit healer?"
"In a way. I had a lot of time to practice. Once Karl was sent away, I started running away again, searching for him. On the way there would always be some poor sod with some kind of injury or illness and I'd make the mistake of helping them because after I finished, the Templars would catch up to me."
Hawke squeezed his hand again,"But it wasn't a mistake, was it?" Anders turned his head towards Hawke and replied, "I guess it wasn't." Hawke had a twinkle in his eye, the same kind of twinkle Karl had when they were younger.
He wanted to add, "After all, it's what led me to you" but, Anders bit his tongue before he could utter those words, he didn't know if he'd regret not telling Hawke but if the Maker had brought him to him, he'd have all the time in the world to tell him.