Love-for-an-Apostate

A chill wind blew fiercely through the streets of Darktown, the open, gaping holes in the cliffs and walls doing little to shield against the weather. In the cramped, winding corridors it was compressed, funneled, and yanked through the spaces until it howled ceaselessly, the sound echoing hundreds of times across Darktown until all of Kirkwall could probably hear it. Anders didn't think he could hate a winter any more than Fereldan's, but now here it was. The new coat that Hawke had given him was doing wonders at keeping most of the cold out and now he was grateful that he had let Hawke talk him into taking it-he would have preferred it i...