Thank you so much Secret Companion for all of your lovely reviews, for chatting with me, and for just generally being awesome. I hope this piece conveys my gratitude!
Don't Dare Die
"I am quite certain the Maker does have a sense of humour, you know. I always thought he didn't, I mean, you have to be a pretty sombre fellow to let your wife burn at the stake," Hawke mused, glancing at the mage at her side with a sideways smile. "But no, he most definitely does, otherwise it wouldn't piss it down every single time, I headed up Sundermount."
Anders chuckled. "The Maker obviously thinks you need watering, Hawke, or He likes the look of you wet…" he laughed. "Either way, He's obviously trying to tell you something."
She snorted. "I could understand liking the look of Isabela dripping wet, that tunic of hers all see-through and sticky to her skin … you'd be able to see everything, and that's saying a lot considering you can already see almost everything. But with me? What's the point? I just look like a drowned rat in dripping wet plate."
"I've seen actual drowned rats in Darktown, trust me, sweetheart, you look nothing like them."
"Well I feel like them. There is water in my boots, Anders. Soggy socks are the absolute worst!"
"I have holes in my boots, how do you think I feel?"
She scoffed. "You wouldn't have holes if you didn't come trekking out here so damn often looking for flowers."
He shook his head, smiling slightly. "They are not flowers, Hawke.
"Well they all look the bloody same to me."
He sighed. "I need the herbs for my clinic."
"So you keep saying, and so I keep wondering why I agreed to come out here with you. I could be at home, tucked up in my mansion by a warm fire, reading a nice book with a bottle of wine right now."
Anders laughed. "When have you ever done that?"
She snorted. "All the time…"
He arched a brow at her, smirking.
"Fine," she relented. "But I've thought about it."
"You'd be at the Hanged Man losing money to Varric and Fenris."
"And my clothes to Isabela," Hawke laughed.
Anders chuckled warmly. "That too." He wiped his face of rain and sighed. "It shouldn't take too long. I just need a few things from some of the caves up here."
"Caves," Hawke muttered, "another thing that all looks the bloody same to me."
"Don't be absurd, you only have to turn around in a cave and it looks completely different."
She snorted. "Great, so now we're going to get lost in a cold, dank cave."
"Don't worry, I know them like the back of my hand by now… there were a few close calls back at the beginning, I had to put string down in order to get back out of them."
"And here I thought I only had to worry about the Templars, coterie or carta attacking you, and you getting lost in the sewers with your mage underground work, but now I have a new worry to add to that list! Getting lost in a cave looking for bloody flowers!" she droned.
He stared at her, giving her a goofy smile.
"What?" she asked, frowning.
"You worry about me?"
She snorted derisively. "The same way I worry about all of my friends," she lied, "it's on the same level of worry I give to my sword getting a nick in it, or my shield getting a dent. I take the utmost care with what is mine," she answered honestly.
"I'm yours, then?" he asked, now grinning.
She gave him a look and folded her arms. "You are the ones who chose to follow me around like lost sheep, so yes, consider yourselves all adopted by Shepherd Hawke," she laughed.
"Is it really surprising that we like following you around?"
She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. "I constantly put you all in danger; we are always out at stupid times of the day, doing ridiculous things in miserable locations… so yes, it is rather surprising."
He chuckled, more to himself than out loud. "Hawke, you are the single most remarkable woman I know; that any of us know, for that matter."
She could feel her cheeks flush at that, the look the mage was giving her was so sincere, so honest, and she could have sworn there was something else in his eyes too: adoration. She looked down at the ground and cleared her throat. "You need all need to get out more, then. I am entirely unremarkable, trust me," she said, not able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. If she had been remarkable, Father, Carver, Bethany, Mother… none of them would be gone.
Suddenly, he was at her side, and touching her shoulder, giving her one of those sad but reassuring smiles of his. "You might not believe it, but it's the truth."
She shrugged him off, "We ought to get to that cave of yours," she said before continuing walking up the rocky path. She heard him sigh from behind her, and then his squelching boots were at her side once more.
…
The cave was like any other cave she had ever seen, been in, or explored but at least it was mostly dry. Anders lit the cave with a little spell wisp that followed them around, bobbing up and down and occasionally getting stuck in Hawke's hair. She swatted the damn thing away whenever it looked like it was about to dive bomb her again.
"It likes you," Anders teased.
"It's a wisp. I'm pretty sure it doesn't have preferences, feelings or thoughts."
The wisp whizzed away from her, flickering brightly.
"Oh, look, you offended it," he chuckled.
"Shut up. I did not."
The wisp nuzzled up the Anders' neck and Hawke rolled her eyes. "Oh don't be such a baby." She groaned. "Great, now I'm talking to a ball of light."
He grinned at her and sent the wisp ahead of them as he continued to look for the herb he needed. He knew these tunnels well, there was still the odd area he hadn't explored which he was hoping to reach today, with any luck it wouldn't have been picked clean of the ingredients he required.
"How deep does this cave go?" Hawke asked, looking up in wonder as the darkness beyond the wisp's light seemed to go on forever.
Anders smiled at her and then waved his hands through the air; more wisps appeared, half a dozen, then a dozen, each of them glowing faintly, lighting up small patches. Anders flicked his fingers again and all of the wisps lit up so fiercely she had to look away for a moment. When she turned back, she gasped. The cavern was huge, and the little wisps all bobbed up and down, glowing all sorts of beautiful colours, but it was the cavern itself that had made her catch her breath. There were statues lining the walls, things she had never seen before, tall and elegant and there was a lake in the middle of the cavern, the water rippling softly as a few of the wisps dipped into it, bobbing gently on its surface.
"Anders," Hawke breathed.
He grinned at her. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted, still staring in wonder. "What is it?"
"Elven ruins. This isn't a cave, but an entire system of interwoven tunnels and ruins. I think the elves used to live down here, all of these tunnels run under the mountain. It's extraordinary."
"Does Merrill know about this? Or the Dalish?"
He shook his head. "I didn't want to encourage Merrill by showing her this place… as for the Dalish, I guess I just figured they might know about it already, I mean, Marethari's clan has been here for years now…and I'm pretty sure one of the upper tunnels comes out close to where they are camped, it's sealed, though."
"Then they might not know; we ought to at least ask."
Anders sighed. "Fine, but herb collecting first," he said as he checked along the edge of the lake.
She sighed heavily and stared up at one of the big elven statues, wondering which Elven God's likeness she was gazing upon. This particular one was standing with its arms crossed over its heart, almost protectively, and seemed to be giving her a disapproving glare. She scoffed as she glanced over her shoulder at the mage crouched by the water scooping up Maker knows what in a pot. Her eyes ran down the curve of his back, and lingered on his arse, completely of their own volition; she turned back to the statue and glared right back at it. "I am not guarding my heart," she muttered, before storming back over to Anders.
"So, what's that you're gathering?"
"It's a rare herb, only found in dark, wet places with no light, but the temperatures also need to be fairly constant, so a cave like this is almost perfect."
"Uh-huh," she said with a nod of her head.
He smirked up at her. "Just know it will help cure a lot of ailments."
"You know, you'd make a lot more friends if you could brew your own booze instead."
"I actually know how to; I watched the Tranquil do it in the Tower."
Her face lit up at that. "We could go into business! You make the booze and I'll drink it."
He laughed. "I was just about to say… it wouldn't be much of a business with the amount you drink."
She flashed him a toothy grin. "Blame Varric, honestly, that dwarf is such a bad influence."
He smiled at her, his face illuminated by a nearby wisp, making his eyes shine. "He's a light weight. There was a dwarf I used to drink with, back when I was with the Wardens, that could have drunk the entire patronage of the Hanged Man under the table. Besides, Varric's not all bad; we did meet because of him."
She chuckled lightly, feeling her cheeks flush again. She wanted to quip, or tease, or joke. Instead she simply smiled at him like some lovesick teen. It made her want to throw up.
She cleared her throat. "Shall we continue exploring this cave system, then?"
He smirked slightly and nodded, leading the way down one of the side tunnels. Most of the wisps disappeared back into the Fade, leaving them with just three little lights to guide them through the pitch black. They wound their way down an endless twisting tunnel, came out into another cavern, but quickly went down yet another side tunnel.
The tunnel they were in narrowed somewhat, and Hawke found her hands, accidentally bumping into Anders'. She had taken her gauntlets off to dry them out, and he wasn't wearing any gloves, so her immediate reaction was just how warm they were; a shiver ran all the way up her arm from the unexpected contact. She tried to brush off the contact as nothing noteworthy; that, however, was very hard to do when she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye.
He stopped and his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to a stop too. His hands were so soft, and her skin broke out in goose bumps. "Hawke, I wanted to thank you for coming with me. It means a lot."
His amber eyes were boring into her and she was glad that the wisps were only lighting her face dimly, otherwise he would have seen how red her cheeks were. She swallowed thickly as his thumb began to caressing the pulse point on her wrist, making her breath hitch.
"You mean a lot to me," he added. Her stomach flipped upside down at his words. She had flirted with him at the start, when they first met but he had only ever shut her down so she had given up… but now he was… was he? She frowned slightly and then he took a step closer. Suddenly they were plunged into darkness and Anders collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain. "Templar!-" he hissed through his teeth.
Hawke turned sharply, stepping in front of Anders protectively, drawing her sword as she heard the sound of a man in plate walking down the narrow tunnel toward them. The Templar chuckled and then let out a low whistle. Hawke's breath left her in heavy pants as she willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
"We came here to see if there were any apostates hiding away in the dark, I hadn't actually expected to find one," he laughed.
She knew his voice.
"Ser Karras," Hawke said evenly.
The last time she had seen this man Varric had bullshitted rather spectacularly that she was an Enchanter from Ferelden. She doubted that lie would hold up here, though. She wasn't even a mage!
"I know you," he said, sounding curious. He was a few feet away now, obviously not wanting to engage her in the pitch black.
She might as well try, though.
"I am Enchanter Hawke, from Ferelden. We met some years ago, I believe."
He was silent a moment, and then a mirthless chuckle passed his lips and she shifted uneasily. "Nice try. Those apostates you claimed were dead were found sometime later, alive."
"Ah. Shame, that," she quipped. She glanced down at Anders who was still on his knees, regaining his breath. She heard footsteps behind her then and clenched her teeth. This would only end one way now. She cracked her neck, and then lunged in Karras' direction, hoping her sword would do some damage; he somehow dodged, and she pulled her shield just in time to deflect his return swipe.
She was suddenly able to see everything and realised Anders was glowing as Justice tried to break through; Karras stared on in shocked horror and she used that to her advantage, driving her sword in between his ribs. He dropped to the ground just as three more Templars reached them in the tunnel. Hawke ran to greet them but Anders suddenly hunched over, energy burning out of him, throwing her back. She landed on her arse and watched as Justice tore into the first Templar, plunging his hand into their neck and ripping out their throat. Hawke screamed for him to look out as she staggered back to her feet, just as the second Templar plunged a sword clean through Anders' stomach. Justice roared, a blinding light filled the tunnel, making Hawke squint. Suddenly, the entire tunnel was rumbling, a deafening sound cut through the air as the ground and walls shook; Hawke was hit with a blast of magic and dust, throwing her back on her arse, again.
When she next opened her eyes it was to darkness. She coughed and wheezed from all of the dust she had inhaled. Panic clutched her chest and she leapt to her feet. "Anders?" she asked, sounding frantic. She walked forward tentatively, hating the fact that she couldn't see a thing. Her boot touched something soft and she dropped to her knees, feeling the mage with her hands; they came back wet and warm; he was bleeding heavily.
"Shit." She lifted her hand and it touched rock just beyond where he was lying. She ran her hands frantically over the whole of the wall, finding it completely blocked, the way they had come in was sealed away, but she could feel the boots of the three Templars on the ground too, at least they were dead, buried alive. She tried to feel for some way through, back to the other side but the entire tunnel had been sealed off. "Shit, shit, shit." She might have been able to find the way out of these tunnels if the way wasn't blocked, but now she was in total darkness with an unconscious mage and no light source.
She cupped Anders' face, feeling tears well in her eyes. "Anders, please wake up," she begged. His skin felt clammy under her hands and she could hear his ragged breaths. She slapped his face, desperate for him to come around but he didn't. "Justice. Are you still there?" she asked quietly. "Please, I don't know what to do." There was no reply. She was alone and lost in the dark.
She pressed down desperately on his wound, hoping it would somehow be enough… She frowned. And then what? She was just going to wait for him to wake up and fix this? She shook her head. That was foolish. She was being an idiot, on the verge of a breakdown and panicking when she should have been thinking, planning, acting. Anders needed her; she couldn't give up. She was a Hawke, stubborn and proud and strong, and she would not let him die, not while she still breathed.
It took her longer than she would have liked to get Anders' wound wrapped up with makeshift bandages from Kerras' shirt, it took even longer for her to tie the Templar's plate armour with hers to make a makeshift stretcher, she had spent a while making sure he was secured to it, his legs tucked up so they didn't drag along the ground, and longer still finding a stick to wrap fabric around and a flint to start a fire with in order to give her a torch to light her way. But finally, she was ready to start dragging the unconscious mage out of here. There was just one tiny, miniscule problem: she had no idea which way to go. She could scout ahead, of course, but she was worried she would get lost and separated from the mage, no, her only option was to drag him along the ground, to stay with him. She picked up the ropes she had attached to the stretcher, tied them around her waist and then began to pull.
She felt naked without her plate on, she kept her shield strapped to her back, within reach if she ran into trouble, and her sword was in her hand, but she realised that with the stretcher tied around her waist it was going to hinder her a great deal if she did suddenly have to jump into a fight. But she would deal with that when the time came.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," she said looking at the three tunnels in front of her. She glanced back at the mage. "Which would you pick, I wonder?" she said out loud, tapping her foot. "Feel free to speak up whenever you like, by the way. You would pick now to be quiet, wouldn't you?"
She sighed. "Left it is then."
…
Left was a really bad choice.
She had barely a few seconds to untie the stretcher from her waist, drop the torch and draw her shield before the skeleton archer knocked and loosed an arrow straight at her. She was fortunate skeletons were generally pretty easy to re-kill, you just had to knock their heads clean off and the bones turned to dust, most of the time. After a few minutes of fighting they were all taken care of, but it was still a stupid dead-end so she would need to backtrack down the tunnel she had just come through. She picked up the torch from where she had dropped it and sighed heavily.
"You're always moaning at me for my poor Geography skills, just one of the many reasons why I don't understand why you lot all still follow me. It's been years of me dragging you into messes, getting us lost, and for what? Why do you all stick around?"
She stared down at him, the torch flickering brightly in her hand casting dancing shadows across his face. He looked so peaceful asleep, almost as if he wasn't actually dying. It was fortunate it was a stomach wound, she supposed, she knew those were the slowest to kill, also the most painful, so perhaps it was also good he had passed out, although she would have killed to hear his voice right about now. She tied the rope around her waist again and headed back up the tunnel.
"I think we'll try the middle one next. I mean, worst case scenario it's another dead end with enemies, right? Ah, if Varric was here he'd be yelling at me for jinxing it right about now. I sound half mad talking to myself like this, you know. Can you even hear me? Actually, I hope you can't, that would be embarrassing. I did cry on you, after all. Terribly sorry about that, but considering the blood stains had already ruined your robes I doubt a few tear stains would bother you much, ey?"
…
The middle wasn't worse than her first option of tunnel, but really it wasn't much better either. The only way she was getting herself and Anders down it was if she pulled him through the crack, most likely scratching him up something awful. She decided it would be her last resort if the final tunnel proved just as unwelcoming.
"At least you're skinny," she mused. "You'd fit through it, but this would be so much easier if you'd just wake up and use those nice long legs of yours. Did you have to pick now of all times to have a bloody nap?"
She ran a hand through her snowy hair, pushing it off of her face. "Back up the path we go, then. I'm really getting sick of lugging you back and forth, you know. I hope you're comfy in Karras' plate armour there, all snug as a bug in a rug, while I work my arse off here. Sweaty and out of breath I am, such a lovely sight." She wiped her brow and then dragged him down the tunnel.
…
"Can I get a 'praise the Maker?" She looked down at the passed out mage. "No? Not even a 'whoop' or a 'whaoo'?" She huffed. "Fine, then, be like that. I'll just celebrate on my own, nothing new, there," she said a little bitterly.
There were two new tunnels for her to choose from now that she had reached another cavern, and this one even had water which she used to clean Anders' wound up a bit. She tried to give him something to drink but she didn't want to drown the daft sod, so she added it to her canteen and carried on, picking the right tunnel this time.
She seemed to be heading in the general direction of up. Which could be good, or very bad. She wasn't sure which. The Dalish would be up the mountain somewhere, but with her shit luck today she had no hope of finding the exit Anders had mentioned. And even if she did, he had said it was sealed.
She actually missed the little wisps of light that the mage had conjured; she would have endured a thousand dive bombing wisps if it meant the mage was conscious enough to give her some directions or instructions. Hell, just watching his eyes open, and seeing his smile, would have made her feel a million times better than she was currently feeling.
"Death by cave in, was that on one of your ideas for killing Templars with Varric?" she asked the unconscious blond. "Not very imaginative, if I'm honest, also really impractical. I could have killed the remaining Templars; you didn't need to go all supernova on the poor tunnel. Although, I suppose that one was Justice's fault, yes? Remind me to shout at him when you wake up."
She sighed. "Look at this mess. Figuratively, I mean, seeing as it's still nap time for you. I must be the absolute worst person to be trying to figure out a way out of here. Almost anybody else would be better. Fenris could glow so he wouldn't need to waste a hand holding a torch and then phase through the walls, though, I supposed he'd leave you behind, wouldn't he? Actually, he wouldn't be out here in a cave with you at all. Sebastian would pray to the Maker for guidance, and he's so damn devout Andraste herself would probably pop in and hand him a flaming map, ha, flaming, get it?" She chuckled to herself. "Varric could probably bullshit the tunnels into telling him the best way out. Aveline would just body slam into the walls and clear a path straight to the outside. Merrill would probably notice the moss growing in a certain way and figure out that air is coming in from a specific tunnel or some nature bullshit. I'm not sure what Bela would do… she wouldn't have agreed to come out here with you in the first place, but that's my weakness, isn't it? I can't say no to you."
She had been putty in his hands the moment she stepped into his clinic. It had taken years for her to finally get into a place where they had a comfortable friendship, where she wasn't constantly pining after him, but his touch earlier… and those words, Maker.
You mean a lot to me.
She couldn't deny how she felt about the mage. Hiding her feelings, locking them away in some cold dark recess of her heart had obviously not been very effective. She still loved him; she didn't think that could ever change. But she had been content to just be friends… she had accepted that. And now he was, what? Changing his mind? Deciding that he didn't want to deny whatever it was between them?
Foolish mage.
She couldn't think about that now. Why did he have to say that just before getting smacked with a smite? Actually, sod that, why did Karras have to interrupt? Bloody bastard. They were having a moment. Anybody could have seen that. Well, expect you couldn't see shit in the dark of that tunnel, but really, that wasn't the point!
It was rude.
She took a deep steadying breath and carried on walking. All of this talking to herself was just making her out of breath and more weary, but at the same time… it was the only thing keeping her sane, keeping her focused, keeping her moving.
If they got out of here, if they both survived… when they both got out of here, when they both survived, she was going to talk to Anders. Really properly talk, no blushing or deflecting, well, maybe some blushing, but she would be straight with him. She needed answers. No more waiting.
…
She had not expected the spiders, which, really, was probably pretty dumb on her part. She hadn't even realised she was walking through spiders' webs until a spider came hissing down from the ceiling a foot in front of her. She had slammed her shield into its head, waving her torch in its face, before dropping that in favour of her sword.
Defending Anders while fighting off multiple spiders was… difficult. She slashed at another, cutting a leg clean off, before she spun and slammed her shield down on the body of another, and then plunging her sword through its hairy head.
She whipped around, knowing there was only one spider left; she screamed as she saw it looming over Anders, about to bite. She charged and tackled the spider into the sticky, web covered ground; it landed on top of her. She screamed in pain when it's poison tipped fangs sunk into her upper arm; she drew her knife and plunged the blade into the spider's abdomen over and over, snarling in pain as its fangs sunk down into her shoulder and then her forearm as she tried to shove it off of her. Finally the creature curled up into a ball, dead.
She was heaving from the effort of the fight as she rolled over and crawled to Anders' prone form. She wasn't getting enough air into her lungs and the three bite marks were burning like someone had just branded her. Her vision blurred as she got to her feet and she had to grab the wall to stop from topping over.
"Fuck," she hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She drank more water and tried to clean the bite marks but the damage had been done. She wasn't sure what a deadly dose of spider venom was… but either way, this was not going to make things easier. She already felt considerably weaker, her breathing laboured, head dizzy.
"I could really use a healer, right about now," she panted down to the mage, and then glanced at his stomach wound and the blood seeping out of it still. "And so could you." She shook her head. "Neither of us is dying down here. Do you hear me? Not like this. Not with everything left unsaid, not when nobody even knows where we sodding are."
She sheathed her sword, picked up the dimly burning torch, wincing slightly from the bites, and then grabbed the ropes to his stretcher and pulled. Up. Up was a good direction. Up was hopeful, promising, and with any luck, the right way to an exit.
…
Each step felt like she was climbing an entire mountain, which probably wasn't completely inaccurate. She had been travelling up for a long time inside of Sundermount, dragging Anders' dead weight and the two metal chest plates along behind her. She was sweating, more than she ever had in her life, she swayed forward more often than not, her feet unsteady, her vision swimming, arms trembling as they held the torch. It was her breathing she was most concerned about now, though, if she took too big of a lungful she got searing pain in her chest and her heart started beating too fast which made her nearly black out.
She ground her teeth and kept on pulling, tugging him over the uneven ground, stumbling and falling more times than she could count, but she always got back up, always pressed forward. The sound of the metal scraping across stone was ear piercing, and with her weakened state, only seemed that much louder and grating. She had given up talking to herself, too exhausted now, mentally and physically.
She was running on fumes.
She had picked a tunnel heading up and right some time ago and there had been no turnings off since. She stopped, breathing hard as she leaned against the wall, her legs shaking, her knees threatening to buckle. If the exit wasn't soon… if this tunnel turned out to be a dead-end that would be it. She didn't have the strength to go back. She could sleep, perhaps, and hope the poison worked its way out of her system, but Anders was white as milk, his pulse weak, his breathing barely ghosting out of him. She knew she would be in trouble if his pulse picked up, but so far it was staying weak but steady. He hadn't lost too much blood, just yet. She could still save him. But if they rested until she had recovered…
"Please, Maker, let this be the way out," she said breathlessly, before gathering up the courage to push on.
Just a few more steps, she told herself over and over, and finally the tunnel opened out. She waved her dying torch around the alcove in front of her; she felt like an ogre had just punched her in the gut as she dropped to her knees.
"No!" she wailed as the tears fell down her cheeks. She slammed her fists into the wall in front of her, screaming at it. "No, no, no, no. No!" she said as she continued to punch the wall until her fingers bled; she didn't care, she couldn't feel it through the poison numbing her system, or perhaps that was just what knowing this was the end felt like.
Her head came to rest against the wall as she openly sobbed.
"Krista," she heard her father's voice whispering to her. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm crying."
She could feel his frown in her mind.
"You are a Hawke."
"No shit, most people just call me Hawke, you know, not Krista..."
She felt him sigh heavily. "Hawke's do not give up."
She laughed. "I tried. I tried and I failed, over and over again, I have failed. And now I have failed yet again."
"You have only failed if you give up."
"I have nothing left, Father. I can't go on."
"That is not the person I raised you to be."
"Well I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you, Father, but in case you haven't noticed, I have lost all of you, failed all of you. You're all dead. And now I am too, and so is the man I love."
"Don't give up, little bird. Hold on just a little longer. You're a Hawke, you're strong."
"Not strong enough."
"You are. You have to believe that."
His voice faded from her mind, and she turned, slumping against the wall, only to see Bethany, Carver and Mother all standing in front of her. She groaned. She was delusional now as well as weak. Wonderful.
"You look like shit, sister," Bethany mused.
"Language, Bethany," their mother scolded, before looking back at Hawke. "Your sister is right, though. What would the nobles think if they saw you looking like this?"
"I don't think I need to worry about nobles anymore, Mother."
"You look like you did when you were a child back in Lothering, scraped knees, covered in filth, your beautiful white hair a tangled mess," Leandra sighed. "It really won't do for you boyfriend to wake up to you looking like that."
"Boyfriend?"
"Your mage," Carver explained with a huff. "You just had to fall for a possessed apostate, didn't you, Sister?"
"He's handsome," Bethany said with a smile, looking down at Anders. "I always liked him."
Hawke squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid the bizarre hallucinations from her mind, but they refused to leave – Hawkes, always so stubborn.
"You're not acting like a Hawke now, you know," Carver said, reading her thoughts. Of course he could read her thoughts; he was in her head.
"I already told Father-"
"And he told you not to give up," Bethany said firmly.
"I know you sister, you're too proud to die in a cave," Carver said with a slight smile.
"What my darling children are trying to tell you is-" her mother said.
"Wake up, Krista," a familiar male voice said in unison with her mother.
Hawke gasped as she bolted awake, wincing in pain as her lungs did that searing pain thing again, making her heart beat far too fast. It was only as she caught her breath that she realised Anders was leaning over her, giving her a weak smile.
"Anders."
He gave her a small nod. "I'm here," he rasped, clutching his side with a grimace. "We're trapped."
She looked around, realising she was in the alcove as before. She cupped his face, not believing him to be real, wincing slightly at her bloodied fingers.
He winced. "I can't heal you; I'm too weak still." He looked down at his gut. "Or myself," he said with a crinkle of his nose.
She sat up and leaned back against the wall, trembling, and he joined her, cursing under his breath as he moved. He clutched one of her hands and she squeezed his back, before leaning her head against his shoulder.
The room was spinning, but against him, listening to his ragged breathing, feeling his cold but soft hands grasping her shaking hand was enough to make her feel a little more grounded. His head came down to rest on hers as he took a shaky breath.
"You might be okay," he said, his voice strained. "You're strong; the spider bites might not be enough to kill you…"
"Anders..."
He gripped her hand tighter. "If there's a chance- don't stay because of me, as soon as you feel better, get out of here. There's a map in my pocket."
She jolted upright, before grimacing and clutching her head, she felt his hands steadying her. "What?" she managed to hiss out.
He gave her what she assumed was a smirk but with his pale pallor and face twisted from the pain it didn't quite work. "Should I have mentioned the map sooner?" he gave a feeble laugh before clutching his stomach.
She would have hit him, instead she laughed, a slightly mad sounding, self-depreciating kind of laugh. "We're going to die in here because I didn't check your bloody pockets," she finally said as he watched her with a sad little smile on his face.
"Not you," he said. "Promise me you'll get out, if you can."
She shook her head. If there was one thing she would always be 'Hawke-ish' about, it was leaving someone she cared about. Anders would have to be dead in her arms before she left him.
"I'm not leaving you while you still breathe."
"Krista…"
"No." She rubbed her nose as she tried to stop the world from spinning. "I won't leave you."
"It will be a slow death, stomach wounds are brutal; you'll need to leave to find food and water once you're strong enough. I don't want you to see me-"
"No. Don't ask me to go, don't push me away again. Not after all of this."
"Don't you think I want you to stay?" he rasped.
"Then ask me to, and I will."
"I can't condemn you to death."
"Then don't. Ask me to live our final moments together." She twined her fingers broken and bloodied fingers with his again, the torch the only light in the dark alcove finally sputtered out, and she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were trembling, her lungs burning, he felt so cold, so weak as the back of her bruised hand caressed his face, but his mouth was warm and welcoming. He returned the kissed, pouring so much passion, or was that desperation, into it. She could taste the salt of her tears, or perhaps they were his, mingling with this kiss.
He pulled back, gasping for breath and she could feel his eyes on her. Even though their breath was mixing as they sat just inches from one another she still couldn't actually see him. His hand stroked her cheek affectionately, and then his fingers slipped through her hair.
"I meant what I said, you are remarkable. I wish I could treasure you, like you deserve. I wish I could stay with you like you are owed. I wish I could love you like you need. This moment, knowing I have loved you for years now, knowing that I will love you until my dying breath – It will have to be enough."
She took a shaky breath. "Anders I-" A stone dropped to the ground and a beam of light cut through the air just in front of Hawke's face. They both turned to look at the now tiny hole in the wall they had been leaning against.
Hawke rushed forward to look through it, seeing clear sky beyond. "Anders," she said, her voice full of hope. She could hear voices from the other side, and then the sound of rocks tumbling away.
She struggled to her feet, swaying, and helped Anders to stand; he leaned on her heavily, crying out in pain as he gripped his stomach tightly. They watched as the wall slowly crumbled, more and more rays of light cut through the dark gloom, landing on them, filling them with joy.
"We don't die today," she said to him, holding onto him tightly. "I'll hold you to what you said, though," she added quietly.
He glanced at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Until my dying breath," he promised.
"I love you," she whispered softly.
"And I you."
She turned back just as the wall completely gave way; several elves rushed forward and helped them out of the cave and into daylight. Hawke could barely keep her eyes open, they stung so much, but the elves guided her to their camp, giving her vile tasting drinks that would fight the venom in her veins. Her eyes never left Anders' and his never left hers as the Keeper worked over him, healing his wound, rejuvenating his mana. When they finally fell asleep it was in two cots next to each other, their hands twined together.
It was later explained to them as they snuggled up with one another around the fire with several other elves and the Keeper, that Marethari had dreamt about them, and had ordered their rescue. Hawke could not adequately express how grateful she was to the Dalish for saving their lives. She didn't think she had ever come so close to death; she had all but given up on them escaping that cave together, if at all. But Anders was at her side, wolfing down some food, his Warden appetite back with a vengeance. She rested her head against his shoulder, staring into the flickering camp fire, a smile on her face.
It had been easy to admit how much she loved him as they were dying, now she had to face that, face the fact that they were very much alive. She had expected it to be awkward, but it wasn't, it was… nice. She felt like a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and now – now that they were safe and well and free – their lives together could truly begin.