Upright: Power, skill, concentration, action, resourcefulness;
Reversed: Manipulation, poor planning, latent talents.
Male Hawke/Anders one-shot. Five times Hawke watched Anders heal.
(Also, hard prompt is hard.)
The first time Garrett Hawke watched Anders healing, he couldn't stop staring.
The healer stood over the makeshift bed, hands aglow with a pale blue, otherworldly light, floating them over the small, broken body of a boy that Hawke was sure couldn't be saved. The hopeful faces of the crowd watched the healer as intently as Hawke did, but Anders ignored them all, remaining completely focused on the boy laid out in front of him, palms hovering over every part of the body, his luminous magic bathing the child in soothing light.
It wasn't just that Hawke had never met another mage before (not counting family, of course). It was the fact that Anders was clearly a skilled and powerful mage, and Hawke had never met such an able healer before. Malcolm was the only person with healing magic Hawke had ever known, and he had imparted all he knew of that school to his two mage children – which amounted to basic healing and rejuvenation spells, nothing more.
Anders frowned in concentration, and his hands glowed brighter; so bright Hawke had to narrow his own eyes against the white-hot intensity of the healer's hands. Bone knitted together, blood seeped back into the skin, and where Hawke had thought the boy lost, he now began to wonder if he'd grossly underestimated the mage's healing talents.
Finally, there was a cough and a splutter, and against all the odds, the boy opened his eyes and sat up, as if he'd just woken from a long sleep.
It was at that point Hawke realised Anders was someone he wanted.
The second time Hawke saw Anders healing was in the Deep Roads.
The expedition was the only thing that would keep the templars off his back – off both their backs, Hawke had persuaded him, despite Anders's protestations of his hatred of the Deep Roads and his phobia of being underground. But Anders came, because Hawke asked him, and Hawke couldn't tell Anders how much he appreciated it.
Going by what they faced down there – darkspawn, profane, rock wraiths, Bartrand's betrayal for a lyrium idol – Hawke wondered, more than once, whether the riches they eventually found were really worth anything they went through. Even once they found the promised treasure, there was no guarantee that they'd even make it back to Kirkwall alive, and they were fast running out of rations.
And then Carver contracted the Taint on the way back to the surface, and Hawke was faced with the prospect of losing his last remaining sibling; but it was Anders who took action when Hawke was in distress, it was Anders who proved resourceful enough to find the Grey Wardens just so that Carver stood some chance of being saved. It was Anders who decided to risk the wrath of the Wardens he'd deserted some months before, risking the chance they might even kill him as a traitor on sight, just for a slim hope that Hawke's little brother would not die from the Taint.
It was Anders who used his spirit healing on Carver (who, for once, didn't grumble) at intervals to keep him going, however temporarily, until the Wardens could be found.
It was at that point, when Carver was carried away by Stroud, that Hawke realised Anders was someone he needed.
The third time Hawke watched Anders heal was when Hawke became the Champion of Kirkwall.
Bruised, bloody, but unbowed, Hawke basked in the glory of defeating the Arishok in single combat and driving the Qunari from the city once and for all. Anders watched with relief and pride as his lover – his handsome, talented, magic-wielding lover – was declared Champion of Kirkwall by Knight Commander Meredith. In spite of her obvious distaste, in spite of her obvious frustration that she could do nothing about the apostate standing before her, she hailed him in front of the admiring nobles – in front of the whole populace – as the saviour of the city, to unanimous cheers.
Hawke had always been a powerful mage, and now he was the most powerful man in Kirkwall. Anders tended to his wounds that night, healing them in the bed they shared.
'I never thought I'd see the day an apostate would be the most important man in Kirkwall, love,' Anders murmured as Hawke's bruises vanished under his touch.
'I couldn't have done it without you, Anders,' Hawke replied.
It was at that point Hawke knew Anders was someone he would always love, no matter what.
The fourth time Hawke saw Anders heal, Anders lied to him.
There was no potion, Anders had said, despite making his lover root through the sewers and Bone Pit caves for some combination of human and dragon effluence to supposedly concoct a potion that would help separate him and Justice.
After using his magic to set a broken leg, Anders had shooed the patient out of his clinic just to tell Hawke he'd been manipulated into helping Anders into something that his lover couldn't – wouldn't – tell him about. Something that would apparently help the cause of mages, conveniently forgetting that he, Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, was also a mage.
Something big. Something bad. Something possibly also very shitty.
Hawke choked back his hysterical desire to laugh as the tears sprung to his eyes. It was bad enough that he hardly saw his lover anymore; worse still that Anders wouldn't tell him what was going on. Worse still that after everything they shared, Anders didn't trust him enough to tell him what was going on.
It was at that point Hawke realised no one could break his heart like Anders did.
The fifth time Hawke watched Anders heal, everything had gone to hell.
The chantry had been blown sky high in a cloud of red light and ash, Grand Cleric Elthina was dead, Meredith ordered the immediate execution of all mages and called on the Champion's support, which he refused. In the midst of it all stood Anders, taking full and unashamed responsibility for the chaos he'd unleashed. Anders, blond and handsome and fierce and not even trying to keep control of Justice anymore, and Hawke had been so angry and betrayed it hurt to even look at him.
It wasn't as if Hawke thought Anders wasn't justified in what he'd done; Hawke had already heard from Karras that Meredith had already sent for the Rite of Annulment to be used on the Circle. The mages were condemned no matter what happened. No, Hawke only wished that Anders had trusted him, rather than somehow thinking he was protecting his lover by acting alone.
Hawke would not kill him, no matter what Fenris said. They had mages to save.
The battle raged through the entire city and went on for days; Carver rejoined his brother from the Grey Wardens, and Hawke found, through his own emotional turmoil, that he was glad to have his brother's blade at his side again. For once, Carver's presence anchored him, even while he fought with and yelled at Anders through some difficult conversations.
Until Orsino turned on them, then Knight Commander Meredith turned on everyone, and when Knight Captain Cullen let them leave in peace, Hawke watched on the deck of Isabela's ship as Anders went around healing everyone's battle injuries.
'I'm sorry,' Anders said for the twentieth time as he approached Hawke.
Hawke sighed. 'I know,' he said, reaching out to cup Anders's cheek, his hand glowing with his own healing magic.
It was at that point Anders realised Hawke had forgiven him.