Chapter Text
You are cordially invited* to attend the
Annual Kirkwall Circle of Magic Reunion!
(*Attendance is mandatory)
Anders glared at the oh-so-tastefully beveled card stock stuck innocuously to his fridge. Invited my pert and freckled arse! It was a Chantry sanctioned mage round up that some well-meaning idiot decided should be thinly disguised as a blighted High School Reunion, because everyone loves those. What better way to spend an evening than updating your digital phylactery and making awkward small talk to the dulcet tones of classic rock echoing through a halfheartedly decorated gymnasium? Despite the prejudice and oppression he faced as a mage, there wasn’t much that could make Anders truly regret his gift of magic, but these Maker forsaken Circle reunions might just do the trick.
Perhaps it would at least be tolerable if he didn’t have to face the blighted things alone. Year after year, he’d show up to find more familiar faces accompanied by smiling new ones hanging off their arms. Meanwhile he stood on the sidelines staring at the lines in the gymnasium floor, remembering how he and Karl had stolen kisses behind the bleachers in the gym at Kinloch, a country away and a lifetime ago. In his day-to-day life Anders could put aside his loneliness and focus on his work, or what little social life he had, but being in a Circle again, old songs playing that he and Karl had danced to, kissed to, made love to, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the gaping hole inside of him.
Anders sighed deeply and slumped against the kitchen counter. Though it would always hurt, Karl had been gone for years now, and he’d made his peace with it. As much as he was ever likely to at any rate. And just because he was currently single… pathetically, perpetually, painfully single, it hardly meant he had no hope of ever finding happiness again. Though given my current ill-fated fixation on Hawke’s terminally grouchy and devastatingly handsome elven friend who just so happens to hate all mages, myself included, I don’t see that whole happiness thing working out.
The mage groaned and ran his hands through his hair, “Why do I have to have such terrible taste in men?” He muttered to himself, tugging the dirty blonde strands faintly in frustration before letting his arms drop to his sides with a huff. The sound of Ser Pounce-a-Lot’s padded feet making contact with the kitchen counter was the only answer he received to his rhetorical question. Anders smiled wryly and reached out to stroke the orange tabby. “Except for you of course Pounce, you’re quite the catch. Aren’t you? Aren’t yooooou?” Pounce agreed wholeheartedly if his enthusiastic purring was any indication. “Even if you do keep jumping on the counter when you know you shouldn’t.” The mage grumbled, pausing in his affections to attempt a stern glare at the cat.
Pounce blinked slowly before butting his head against the human’s stilled hand, purring with a demanding air.
“Oh alright.” Anders laughed softly, easily giving in to the feline’s request for more pets. “I suppose if I could jump up five times my height to get at all the good food I would too.” He smirked as he imagined himself looking up at a kitchen counter the size of a three-story building, then springing up gracefully to find a whole society happily thriving at the top; one where mages were treated equally and paid fair wages. A world where the people, mage and mundane alike, held the power of government, not the Chantry and their loosely collared Templar dogs. A beautiful dream where the most stunning pair of emerald eyes he’d ever seen would look at him with fondness rather than distain. He huffed and shook his head. “Ok, this whole countertop jumping parallel has gotten a bit away from me. Alright, down you go Ser Pounce!” He declared with false cheer as he forcefully banished his ridiculous fantasy from his mind and shooed the tabby to the ground.
The cat glared, no doubt already plotting his dastardly revenge, his tail twitching ominously.
Anders shrugged and turned back to the fridge, his eyebrow quirking slightly as he considered the ‘I <3 Kirkwall’ magnet he’d used to secure the invite. It had been given to him as an ironic gift from Hawke, his friend and fellow mage activist being more than aware of his less than favorable opinion of the injustice and bureaucracy still very much alive and well in the ancient City of Chains. He supposed he should count himself lucky he didn’t have it as bad as the mages during the Dragon Age, when shit really hit the fan. At least in the “enlightened” Age in which he lived he wasn’t imprisoned in some dreary tower with the constant threat of having his very personality burned away if he so much as sneezed in a Templar’s direction. Now prejudice, slurs and an impenetrable glass ceiling were the new chains mages fought against in this charming city. And of course, the blighted reunions.
“Maybe this year won’t be so bad.” The mage proclaimed to no one in particular with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.
A long meow answered his proclamation, the cry accompanied by a nudging at his legs. Anders smiled and picked up his orange tabby companion. “Maybe I can talk Hawke into going with me. The company of a friend would be better than all that awkward small talk.”
Another meow.
“Well of course I’d like a proper date.”
A small and somehow doubtful sounding merp followed his statement.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really have a line of suitors interested in me.” The cat butted his furry head against his chin. “Except for you my love. You’re my one and only Ser Pounce-a-Lot. Yes you are, yes you are!”
A faint narrowing of the cat’s yellow eyes and a yowling meow answered him.
“You’re just hungry aren’t you?” The mage sighed. A soft purring answered him. “You little glutton.” Anders murmured with a fond shake of his head as he put down the cat and readied his meal. He often had the suspicion that most people didn’t actually feed their cat Fancy Feast out of a little crystal dish like they showed in the commercials, but it wasn’t as though the mage had anyone else to spoil, and demanding stomach aside, Pounce had always proven himself to be deserving of the luxury.
Plus the little dish had been the half price tag color at Lirene’s Second Hand Ferelden Outlet, but Pounce never needed to know that.
With a final scratch behind the tabby’s ear as he bent to enjoy his Fancy Feast, Anders sighed heavily and dialed his only hope of surviving this blighted reunion with his dignity intact.
“You’re in Orlais?!”
‘Unfortunately. It was kind of a sudden thing. Prosper Inc. is interested in distributing for us, and they’re having this Charity ball, gala, whatever, and the boss says I have to represent the company.’
Anders smirked, “AKA your mom hopes you’ll meet an exotic foreign man and come to your senses?”
She answered with a bark of laughter. ‘Unlikely, given that Merrill’s going with me.’
“Come on Hawke, you’ve got to help me out!” He realized he was borderline whining but could hardly bring himself to care. “I can’t go yet another year being that weird guy that shows up alone and shows off pictures of his cat when people start busting out the baby photos!”
‘There’s no way I’ll believe having a date, fake or not, will stop you from showing off your furbaby .’
“True, but at least it won’t look like he comes from a broken home!” Hawke laughed heartily at that. “What about Isabela?”
‘She’s accepted her loss at rock paper scissors with grace and is going to stay home and take care of the pooches. It’s giving her a great chance to put our new webcam through its paces.’ By her lascivious tone Anders could only assume she didn’t mean innocent vlogging.
“Isabela’s still in town?! Do you think she could go with me?”
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t object, but it’s pretty common knowledge we’re together. I already sent out an obnoxious family Satinalia card with the 3 of us. We’re wearing ugly sweaters and everything.’
Anders nodded sagely. “The hallmark of any serious relationship.”
‘Right?! And well... Cullen... may have gotten one...’
“Cullen?! Really?”
‘He’s my friend! I have lots of friends Anders, I’m a friendly person, it’s one of my many charms.’
Anders gave a noncommittal grumble and let the matter of Hawke’s friendship with the Templar drop. Hawke had many friends indeed, and the only way they all got along without killing each other was learning to respect that everyone had a right to their own opinions, even when they were clearly wrong. “You’re friendly alright, friendly enough to pull Isabela and Merrill, which hardly seems fair by the way.” He sighed, fully giving in to the incoming wave of self pity. “I like to think I’m pretty friendly, but where’s it gotten me? I mean, what is it about me Hawke? It feels like everyone has someone but me. Even Aveline has that Fireman guy, what was his name?”
‘It’s Donnic. And what do you mean even Aveline? I’m going to tell her you said that!’
Anders groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh you know what I mean. Maker she’s just so… intimidating.”
‘Yeah, I suppose I can see that, and that’s even without the Guard Captain uniform… well regardless, you’ll find someone Anders, you’re a catch!’ He scoffed. ‘Was that a scoff? No scoffing Ser Scoffs-a-Lot! You’re smart and handsome and bloody charming, and if Isabela is to be believed, those healing hands of yours are good for other… applications.’
“Thank you Hawke, I’ll try to keep that in mind while I’m trying to forget how awkward it is that I previously slept with one of your girlfriends.”
‘Not awkward! The word you’re looking for is hot. You’re welcome to sleep with the other one too if you let ‘Bela and I watch.’ Anders could practically hear her eyebrows waggling salaciously.
The mage rolled his eyes. “Pass.”
‘Alright but the offer stands. Ugh but we’re getting off topic! How about Sebastian?’
Anders glared into the phone, which was useless, but it made him feel better. “Hawke, you realize he’s a Chantry brother right?”
‘And?’
“And, even if the Chant teaches to be tolerant of his friends’ ‘deviant’ homosexual behavior, something tells me it doesn't say anything about pretending to be the boyfriend of a mage whom he barely likes.”
‘But the Chant doesn’t say not to…’
Anders was losing track of how many times he’d sighed in this conversation. “Hawke.”
‘Alright alright. How about Donnic?! He’s a handsome strapping fireman, and I doubt Aveline will kill you when we explain the situation.’
“I’m not pretending to date Aveline’s boyfriend! Not only do I not share your confidence in her not murdering me, but think what that would do to their careers if rumors spread? Cheating on his girlfriend with a male mage.”
‘I suppose you’re right. …I could call Carver?’
“No.”
‘Right. And Bethany said she’d be out of town.’
“Hawke you really don’t have to-“
‘Varric!’
Silence stretched on indefinitely.
‘No you’re right. Oh! Wait, I’ve got it! Why didn’t I think of it before?!’
Anders’ heart began to pound in rising panic. “No! No Hawke don’t you dare! Don’t even think of saying-“
‘Fenris!’ “Fenris!”
‘See! You realize how perfect it is too! He’s handsome, yet intimidating enough to stand up to the Templars, he’s single, he never has plans-’
“He hates me. He hates all mages. He’s a prick.” Anders counted off bitterly on raised fingers. “I’d rather go alone than with him.”
‘Ok, then go alone.’
Damn Hawke calling his bluff! “Come on Hawke there has to be someone else! Last year Orsino made a pass at me! Orsino!”
‘What's wrong with that? Orsino’s a DILF.’
“I don’t think he has any kids...”
‘You don’t need to have kids to project that Big Dad Energy.’
“Maker stop! I mean... ok fair point he is a bit of a Daddy, but regardless, I’m just not interested in him! Or anyone else for that matter!”
‘Oh really? Because it certainly sounded like you were interested in someone on the way home from The Hanged Man the other night...’
The mage groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face in despair at ever letting his guard down in front of his treacherous best friend. He was never doing pub trivia night again. “No, no you didn’t. You also didn’t imagine me sicking up in the back of your car, which I am now no longer sorry for thank you very much. You’re right though, I’m sure he’d love to come to an awkward gathering of all the mages in the blighted city and hang off the arm of someone he hates.”
‘I told you, he doesn’t hate you, he’s just... prickly.’
“Yeah and this reunion would be sure to set his spines on edge. No way.” Some of the bitter sarcasm drained from his voice as he sighed, a resigned sadness replacing it, “I’d ruin any chance I had with him if I brought him, not that I even have a chance to begin with...”
‘You’ll never know unless you tell him.’
“Exactly, I’ll never know just how much he loathes me if I keep my mouth shut about this hopeless and monumentally stupid crush.”
‘...I’m calling him.’
“No! Hawke don’t you dare! Haw-”
‘Better get that suit ready Anders, you’re going to have a date!’
“No Hawke! I changed my mind, call Carver! Or Varric! Hawke! Hawke?” A resounding dial tone answered his frantic shouts. Anders moaned and collapsed back on the couch, draping an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the idiotic and utterly hopeless romantic fantasies that inevitably sprang to life at the prospect of spending an evening with the man he had been secretly falling for, for the better part of a year.
Too late. Anders thought miserably as visions flickered before his mind’s eye. Holding his hand as he introduced him to people, calling him his boyfriend until he could almost believe it was true... Sharing quiet laughter and knowing grins as they sipped the blighted Riviani Punch that someone spiked without fail every year... Dancing with his nose buried in that gorgeous white hair as they swayed to terrible songs from his youth under blighted fairy lights…
He was mercifully shaken from his musings by Pounce’s solid warm weight landing on his chest. “Please Ser Pounce-a-Lot, if you love me, you have to kill me. You’re my only hope now.” Pounce purred contentedly and kneaded the fabric of the mage’s frayed sweater. “Traitor.” Anders mumbled even as he reached to card his fingers through the soft warm fur, his thoughts already drifting back to a world he would never have, high atop a counter he could never jump to reach. A world where he was loved by the man he wanted most, a man who hated him.