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Anders stared down at the little slip of paper in his hand. He felt the boat rocking back and forth with the waves of the Waking Sea. He was several days into his journey from Amaranthine to Kirkwall, and he felt… homesick. He tried to shove the feeling down, but he couldn’t squash it. Perhaps, he figured, it was because he was feeling the homesickness of two souls inside only one body.
There is no shame in missing your compatriots, Justice said, his strong voice echoing in Anders’ mind. I know we will not waver from our purpose. Our love for them only makes it even clearer that we are strong enough to do what must be done.
I know, Anders thought back, staring down at the little slip of paper. It was written by the hand of the Commander’s wife in all but name, Morrigan. She’d thought the idea of a passport was foolish, but her loving, wildly persuasive husband had convinced her that it would be dangerous for Anders and Justice to try and travel to the Free Marches without any sort of passport. Mahariel resented the shemlen obsession with paperwork, but he’d admitted it was better to be safe than sorry. Frederick Merry, the Commander had decided, was to be Anders’ false name for the journey. Frederick from Anders’ flippant comment to Nathaniel about an alternate name for Ser Pounce-a-Lot, and Merry after the Commander’s favorite cousin, Merrill. Thinking about the Commander and Pounce made Anders’ shared stomach churn slightly. It was impossible to blame the feeling on seasickness, as Justice was always doing his best to keep Anders from lying to himself. To them.
Lying will do us no good, Justice insisted. Go. Walk above decks. The air will do you good.
What, Anders thought back, you think staring out into the endless bloody sea is going to make me feel better? Really? Anders’ lips moved as he thought the words, struggling to keep his vocal chords in check. Communicating with someone without actually talking was going to take a lot of getting used to. He wondered if he’d ever be able to pull it off. He looked around the large cabin belowdecks. Amongst crates full of supplies, dozens of Ferelden refugees sat, the last stragglers of those fleeing the Blight. Their homes were gone, and no city in Ferelden wanted them. They were already too full. Off to the Marches, then. It wasn’t like Orlais was the new hot spot to settle.
Above deck, Anders, Justice insisted. Anders felt him swirling about inside him, a breeziness amongst his organs and something deeper he couldn’t yet identify. Go.
What is your problem? Anders looked up from the paper, staring straight ahead and glaring, mouthing the words. “I’m fine!”
A refugee woman hugged her daughter tightly against her chest, glaring back at Anders. He hadn’t even noticed she was there. “Don’t think I’m ‘armless,” she hissed. Her dark blonde hair was stringy and filthy, her daughter equally so.
“I- I’m sorry, ma’am,” Anders muttered. “I don’t know what came over me, I’ll-” He stood up, stooping slightly. “Sorry.” He started to flee the cabin, painfully aware of the eyes on him. He noticed that his hands were shaking. Why? Why did you do that?
I did nothing. Justice was insistent. Anders could feel his indignity. You needed to leave.
I was fine! Anders stumbled slightly up the stairs as the boat rocked. He still didn’t have his sea legs. He hoped he never would. I was fine, and you ruined it!
You have been shaking. Anders stopped as he reached the top step. You have been fearful. It gnaws at your mind, like starving rats. You have so much fear contained within you. Step forward, Anders. Anders did as Justice commanded, stepping forward and grabbing the handle to the door. Turn and push. He opened it. He flinched away at the blinding midday sun, but forced himself to keep walking. Whether or not it was him actually doing the forcing was unclear. He took a few more steps. Overhead, gulls screamed. He gripped the slip of paper tightly in his hand, terrified that the sea breeze would snatch it away. Breathe, Justice said, his commanding voice strangely calming. Anders took a deep breath in. Hold. He held it. Exhale. He exhaled. Good. Do that again. Fill our lungs with new air. Anders kept breathing, slowly walking to the side of the deck. He grabbed the railing with the hand not gripping the paper. Your hands are steady, now.
Anders looked down and noticed that they weren’t shaking anymore. Oh, he thought. I… He swallowed. Thank you, Justice.
I am your constant companion, Anders, Justice said in his mind. He must have sent out some sort of calming emotion into their shared body. Your fear is my fear. Your past is my past. Your affections are my affections. I feel as you do. I see, I know, I understand as you do. Do not hide in the dark when you can bask in the light. Anders nodded. Soon, I know, we shall be forced to hide away. But, one day, you and I and all your kind will be free. All shall bask in the light of a new future.
“I hope so,” Anders whispered.
Do not hope. Do.
“Even if it kills us,” Anders said, letting the wind pull the words from his lips and carry them away. “We’ll win.”
Good. Anders felt Justice nestle in the deepest corner of his heart. We shall fight until our end, old friend.
And we will end gloriously.