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Base/s: Dragon Age

Title: A Wizard Did It

Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles starring our favourite rebel mage and his partner, the esteemed Champion of Kirkwall. FemHawke/Anders

Music used for inspiration:


7. Sweet

Hawke smiled as she looked at the unopened present in front of her. It was her birthday and she and 'the team' were celebrating. She'd thanked Varric for the new journal he'd bought her, seeing as she'd filled her old one. Isabella had very kindly acquired the most beautiful scarf. She didn't ask where it came from. Fenris, surly as ever, had pressed an amulet layered with protective spells into her hand before secluding himself as far from the two mages as he could.

Avaline had been kind enough to buy those new boots she'd been eyeing and Merrill had shyly given her a handmade something that was apparently some form of Dalish good luck charm. Bethany had sent her fond regards in a long letter and her mother had spoiled her with the prettiest dress she'd ever seen.

So now it was time for Anders' gift.

It was square. She shook it slightly while holding it up to her ear, hoping to find out what it was.

She looked at him, hoping for a hint but he just shook his head and gestured for her to open it, a small smile on his lips.

She carefully peeled back the paper, never having been one to tear the wrappings off, and she laid her eyes on a simple, polished wood box.

She idly noted that her friends (with the exception of Fenris, since, well, it was Fenris) were leaning forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the mage had bought for his lover.

Casting the paper to the side, she lifted the lid.

She gasped and her eyes widened. A grin threatened to split her face.

She looked up and threw herself at the surprised mage who accepted the tackle that knocked the air from his lungs.

"Thank you so much! It's so sweet!"

Varric, who was looking slightly disturbed, cast a glance at the box, whose lid had fallen closed.

"What is in there?" Aveline asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Isabella agreed since she reached over and lifted the lid wide open for all to see.

Merrill looked confused.

"Is this," she gestured to the contents of the box, "usual for humans to give as gifts to their sa'lath?"

Having prised the meaning of the word from Merrill some time ago, Isabella rolled her eyes.

"No. But it makes sense that Hawke would go all gooey over a new set of knives."

Aveline was staring at the knives, which were, she had to admit, vicious. They had cruel, serrated edges and the metal glinted in the light. The wraps were coarse and firm, just as they should be.

She shook her head in exasperation.

"Honestly, knives aren't sweet."

Isabella got a glint in her eye.

"Maybe that's what you should have tried when you were wooing Donnic. I mean, if Blondie can get it right..."

The Guard Captain spared the seafarer a withering stare.

"Don't even go there."

Varric shrugged.

"I guess if it makes Hawke happy..."

Isabella looked at the woman who was smiling enough to bruise her cheeks as she carefully handled her new toys.

"If she gets to call her knives sweet then I should be allowed to call my model ships cute."


8. Advice

Aveline had a problem. A rather large problem. The problem being, even if she didn't want to admit it, she wasn't sure how to get her husband, Donnic, to spend some quality time alone with her. She understood their job was hectic, but really, a whole week?

She needed advice. But who to ask? Isabella was out of the question. There was nothing that led to an argument faster than the subject of Aveline's love life.

Fenris was no doubt brooding somewhere and didn't want to be disturbed. Varric might help, but would just as likely retell it as a story. She didn't want all of Kirkwall gossiping about her love life thank you very much.

Merrill? The sweet girl wouldn't know 'alone time' if it hit her in the face.

Hawke, she paused. Actually, that was a good idea. Hawke had a lover, maybe it was best to ask advice from her. After all, she had helped Aveline with the 'little problem' she'd had when Donnic was nothing more than a guard under her command.

Yes, she decided, she would go and ask Hawke.


Aveline was frustrated. Where could the woman have gotten to? She'd looked for her at her house in Highown, her Uncle's place in Lowtown, all the marketplaces in the city and the Viscounts Keep. She'd found neither hide nor hair of the other woman.

She was hit with a sudden brainwave that Hawke might just be helping out at Anders' clinic. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of venturing into Darktown, she set off.

As she entered the clinic, she saw that it was far from busy. A few people milled about and were being patched up by volunteers and she spotted Anders' in one corner, working with a mortar and pestle. She walked over and he looked up when he heard he draw close.

"Aveline." He greeted, "What can I do for you?"

"Have you seen Hawke?" she asked, hoping the woman was present.

To her dismay, he shook his head.

"I haven't seen her since this morning. I think she's gone to the Wounded Coast to deliver something to somebody. She took Varric and Merrill with her as I recall." He said. "What did you need her for?"

Aveline sighed.

"I just wanted her advice on something." She admitted.

He looked slightly surprised.

"Oh. I can try and help, if you want?" he offered and she raised an eyebrow.

"I hardly think it's something you can help with."

"You'd be surprised." He said, a small smile gracing his face.

Aveline snorted and threw up her hands.

"Fine, fine. Don't say you didn't ask for it." She warned before launching into an edited version of her current troubles. To his credit, he listened and didn't speak until she was finished.

"So you see, I didn't know who else to ask and – and oh! It's all such a mess." She finished huffing and crossing her arms. She was well aware she was being juvenile, and frankly, could have cared less.

Both eyebrows slightly raised, the mage opposite spoke.

"In my experience, men like Guardsman Donnic usually wait for you to make a move on them."

She gave him a look.

"In your experience?"

"Well, yes. And it is a vast experience I can assure you." He said, a slight grin making its way onto his face.

"I didn't need to know that." She muttered. "But how do you know what men like my husband are like?"

He sighed and gave her a pointed look.

"I was rather... free, in my youth." He said, his lips twisting into a smirk smile. "And it wasn't always women who caught my attention."

Aveline raised both eyebrows. Huh.

"Oh." She said, not really knowing what to say.

"So, do you want my advice or not?"

She weighed the options in her mind.


Isabella raised her eyebrows as the Guardswoman walked over to their table in the Hanged Man. She sat herself down and gave a cheerful greeting to the three other women at the table.

"And what has you so happy I wonder?" Hawke asked, inquisitive.

Aveline smiled.

"Oh, not much."

Isabella let a lopsided smirk attach itself to her face.

"Only one thing can make a woman act like that. Don't you agree Hawke?" she said, jabbing playfully at the red haired woman. Hawke got a glint in her eye and nodded, smiling. Merrill looked a little lost.

"Um, what thing?" she asked. Isabella looked at the young elf fondly.

"Think about it Kitten, it'll come to you."

Aveline shook her head.

"You can dampen my mood today Isabella." She said firmly.

"I don't think it was your mood that was dampened-"

Aveline, for once, ignored her.

"I'll only say one thing." She said, raising her voice slightly. "If you ever need advice on men, drop in on the clinic." She turned to Hawke and looked her in the eye. "You're man's got some great advice."

Isabella really wanted to know. Hawke was looking a little nonplussed.

"Advice on what?"

Aveline fought to keep her face straight as her playful side, the one she usually kept hidden, reared its head.

"How to get men into bed of course."


9. Calm

He sat stroking her hair absently, watching the browning leaves sway in the cold air. The sun was warm, and chased away the chill that came with autumn – yet the tip of his nose was freezing, while the weight of her body warmed more than just his skin.

He heard her sigh as he idly ran his fingers through her locks. There was nothing pressing to be doing, the clinic could survive a day without him, it wasn't raining outside, and he was relaxed. Something that rarely happened.

On impulse, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She sighed contently and opened an eye to look up at his face. The sun made his hair almost unbearable to look at, and she had to focus on his lips to avoid the blinding gold that made her eyes hurt. He bent down again, this time capturing her mouth and kissing her deeply. She looked so delicious, lying in his lap with her hair spilled out around her head, and he just couldn't resist. His hands left her hair while his tongue slipped past her lips and her hand fisted his shirt.

Touching her neck, his fingers lightly traced patterns that caused her to shiver. She made a little noise in the back of her throat as his kiss deepened, her hands coming up to grasp the back of his neck as his dropped down to caress the side of her torso. The sensations of her eager tongue and arching body were almost nothing compared to the pressure applied by her head resting in his lap. It drove him mad, and he nearly snapped when she broke their kiss to smirk and turn her head to lay it on the side; completely ignoring his growling. Her eyes closed again, and as soon as it started, it was over.

He sat incensed, contemplating his next move. Should he try and calm down, resuming the peaceful nothingness that had taken place mere minutes ago, or should he act upon his impulses? Choices, choices...

She took matters into her own hands, when she shifted in his lap and gave a teasing little grin that held a trace of wickedness. That look on her face and the whisperless promises made him very willing to give in to a rather primitive state of mind. She could undo him like nothing else could.

His movements were quick, holding her head up and lowering it to the floor while removing himself from underneath her. He almost jumped over her, pinning her down with his body and capturing her lips in searing kisses. Her eyes were open, twinkling with mischief. But as his hands roamed her body, caressing sensitive skin and ridding her of the restriction of clothes, the twinkle faded into something a little more heated.

He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing, but this was a normal occurrence between them. It was little wonder the moments of calm were so short-lived.


Sa'lath means something like 'One love' in Dragon Age Elvish. It says so in the DA wiki page!

Any suggestions of plotlets? Ideas? ANYTHING?