Title: Catalyst
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: PG
Length: 582 words
Author notes: Going back through some unposted fic.
Summary: While Sara Hawke was out fighting thugs, Anders was learning about the fall of the Tevinter Imperium.

Anders read in the evenings. It wasn’t unusual for Sara to come home to find him sprawled across one of the chairs in the library, the fire burning, a glass of wine beside him, and a book in his hand. He had been going through her library methodically, reading everything from fairy tales to historical treatises. Sara hadn’t read that much of her own library. The last thing she wanted to do when she got back home was open a book. A bath followed by dinner and bed were her usual priorities. But Anders seemed to find something profoundly relaxing in reading. No matter how late he stayed at his clinic, he would find time to read before going to sleep.

The clock was tolling midnight when Sara walked through the door. Her armour was bloodied, and some of it was her own. Her legs shook as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Anders was sprawled across the bed, a book open in front of him, but he looked up as she entered.

“Sara,” he said and, leaving the book, rose to meet her. “You’re hurt,” he said. His fingers crept under her breastplate to release the catch, and he quickly divested her of her armour.

“Not badly,” she said. “I could use a bath, though.”

“Bodahn and Sandal brought one up earlier,” he said, gesturing towards the full tub waiting in front of the fire. He walked over to it and stirred the water until it started to steam. Sara smiled in response and quickly shed her clothes.

“What were you reading?” she asked as she sank into the water. Its warmth helped to ease the muscles she had pulled even as the touch of the water made her wounds sting. Anders handed her a bar of soap and a washcloth before sitting on the edge of the bed to watch her.

“A history of Tevinter,” he said. “It seems someone in your family had an interest.”

“Anything interesting?” She washed the blood and muck of the day off, being careful to scrub extra well at the abrasions. The blood turned the water faintly pink.

“The Fereldan histories always talk up the importance of Andraste’s Exalted Marches in bringing down the Imperium. According to this history, they wouldn’t have succeeded without trade embargoes imposed by Antiva.”

“Fascinating,” Sara said dryly, and tipped her head back to wash the blood out of her hair.

“Without the markets in Antiva, Tevinter’s export economy collapsed. They were weakened even before the Exalted Marches arrived.”

“Hitting the purse does tend to get results,” Sara said. “I guess Antiva saw which way the wind was blowing.”

“It just took someone like Andraste standing up to them to get other nations to take action.”

“Mmm” Sara said, wringing her hair out. “Everyone’s always waiting for someone else to take the first stand.”

“You’re right,” Anders said, and his voice sounded strange. Sara glanced over at him. He was looking past her, into the distance beyond the fire. “That’s what history teaches us.”

“Well we don’t have any Andrastes amongst us now,” Sara said, and stood up in the bath.

“No,” Anders said, then shook himself out of his mood to bring her towel over to her. She stepped out onto the rug in front of the fire, and let Anders enfold her in it. “Give me a look at those wounds,” he said, and she dutifully presented her scratches for him to heal.