So I'm just gonna drop this chapter here and leave it at that. :P


Chapter 9: Haven IV


"You set the curtains on fire."

"You cracked the bed frame."

"Did I miss the smell of singed hair?"

"You almost blew out the windows."

"…I didn't mean to?"

Anders smirked, hiding his face in his shoulder. "Good to know I've still got it," he mumbled against his skin.

"Was that in doubt?" he asked curiously.

"Hm." Anders shifted, arm tightening where it was slung over his waist. "Go a certain amount of time without practicing, anything gets rusty."

"Ah." What was he then? Rusty? Or falling apart like something shoddily and newly built?

"I haven't set anything on fire in ages," Anders said, huffing out a laugh. "Not like that. At least one of us is a quick hand at dousing them."

He didn't say he hadn't meant to douse it, just pressing a smile to Anders's hair. It felt good lying so close to him without anything to get in the way of skin-to-skin contact. "It's been a while for me, too." He didn't usually have magical mishaps, the last time being when he had been a child and his father still alive.

But… "Was it good?"

Anders pulled his head away to look up at him. His smile was infectious. "Love, I set the curtains on fire. If it hadn't been good, that wouldn't have happened."

Hearing Anders refer to him as such would never fail to send a thrill running through him. He couldn't help but press a kiss to Anders's forehead, heart overwhelmed with a nameless feeling that he could never put a word to because "love" seemed too small to encompass it.

Some minutes later, Anders spoke again, voice quiet. "I never thought I could have this again."

"Because of Justice?"

"It's not just the sex," Anders said. "I mean, that was part of it, but it was the other thing. I didn't think I could have a relationship. There was no room for it in what we have to do, but…"

"That is what we have here, right?" he asked, throat thick.

"Against my better judgment…" Anders's sigh was warm against his skin. "I want this. I shouldn't, but I do."

There was a sick feeling in his chest, one that he wasn't familiar with and didn't want to become familiar with. "That's…um…" He swallowed, uncertain of how to put it into words. "Ow?" was what he eventually went with, managing a strained smile. "Nice pillow talk there."

"What?" Anders seemed to realize something was wrong. He propped himself up on his elbow. "Oh, that came across badly, didn't it?"

He looked up at Anders, wanting to touch but unsure. "I don't want this to be something you force yourself into."

"I'm not forcing myself into anything," Anders said, reaching up with his other hand to brush his bangs back, fingers warm on his skin. He lingered, thumb brushing against his temple. "I want this. I didn't think I could have it again considering who I am now, but you're something else."

"Is that a good something else or a bad one?"

"The best," Anders said, mouth curling into a grin. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

"That's my line."

"Mm, no." Anders pressed a kiss to his mouth, not pulling away. "It's mine," he murmured against his lips. "It's definitely mine."

He was about to suggest that it be both of their lines, but his attention was soon turned to other matters.

Like not almost blowing out the windows this time.


"Herald!"

Hawke didn't stop for Josephine, refusing to acknowledge her.

Josephine's footsteps picked up. "Lord Trevelyan!"

Now he stopped, sliding a foot to the side to turn towards her. "I thought we covered everything we needed to. Unless you wanted me to help send out the invitations?"

"This doesn't have anything to do with the Breach," Josephine answered seriously, not missing a beat. "I've received another letter from your family."

It took Hawke a moment too long to remember what family Josephine was referring to. "Have you?"

Josephine held the letter out in answer. "If you would like, I can compose a reply for you—"

Hawke didn't answer, letting Josephine continue to speak as he opened the letter to read it. It was more of the same as the last one he still had stashed in his lodgings, although this time there was more of a pressure to respond. He recognized that pressure from his time in Kirkwall.

"Leave it," Hawke said, looking up from the letter. "If they contact you again, ignore it."

Josephine's mouth opened slightly in shock. "Is – are you certain? They're your family—"

"We weren't on speaking terms." Hawke folded the letter back up, resisting the urge to crumple it into a ball. "They're only reaching out now because of what they can gain." He managed a stiff smile. "Do you want the whole sorry story or is that enough?"

To her credit, Josephine didn't show anything of what she was thinking on her face. "It would be polite if there was some response."

"I'll leave that in your capable hands." Hawke held the letter out, not moving until Josephine took it back. "If they reply again, I don't need to see it. Feel free to use it as kindling."

"Very well." Josephine sounded just slightly disapproving, but there was no sign of it on her face.

Inclining his head in thanks, Hawke turned to leave, stepping out into the cold of Haven. It was dark now, the stars glinting through the patchy clouds that dotted the sky. Without the sun, the temperature had plummeted, and it was all too easy to see his breath.

Briefly closing his eyes to cast a small warming spell, Hawke headed in the direction of where Anders would be. He bypassed Varric on the way, who was sitting by the fire in front of his tent.

"All good?" Varric asked, face cast in uneven shadows from the dancing firelight.

"Perfect," Hawke answered dryly, shooting him a thumbs up.

"I'll be sure to unpack."

Hawke let Varric see a flash of his grin before he turned away, continuing down the steps and to the right. There was a warm light in the windows of his cabin, and the door was warm to the touch when he reached it.

Magic tingled across his skin, and Hawke took a breath, trying and failing to calm his stuttering heart down.

Seeing Anders sitting at the desk and engrossed in a book that Hawke knew he hadn't had before alleviated some of the pressure in his chest. He didn't stir as Hawke closed the door and walked over to him, footsteps quiet.

Hawke didn't make an effort at hiding his presence, sliding his hands over Anders's shoulders and leaning down to press his mouth to the top of Anders's head. He inhaled, eyes closing and more tension seeping out of him as Anders's familiar scent filled his lungs.

Anders hummed lightly, shoulders pressing back into Hawke's hands. "From the lack of fire and brimstone, I'm guessing things went well?"

Hawke made a disgruntled noise, unwilling to move to speak audibly.

A hand touched his own, Anders's fingers tangling with his. "That didn't sound good."

With a sigh, Hawke pulled away enough to say quietly, "Cullen wasn't happy with my choice to offer the mages an alliance. They were even less happy when I let a spirit join."

Anders's fingers tightened. "A spirit?"

"They look like a young boy; you can't miss the hat." Hawke rubbed his thumb over Anders's shoulder, closing his eyes and letting his forehead rest against the top of Anders's head. "They said they want to help." After a moment's thought, he added, "They called themselves Cole."

"And you thought 'why not?' and welcomed them in." Anders didn't sound upset, more amused. "You're a bleeding heart, love."

Hawke didn't answer, making a grumbling noise of disagreement.

"You are." Anders's voice was fond.

"Mmf." Hawke pressed his lips to Anders's head again, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away entirely with a sigh.

Reaching down to tug his boots off, Hawke let them fall to the floor by the foot of the bed, laying down his daggers with more care on the desk by the window. There was a lute propped up against it, and Hawke eyed it warily, all too aware of Anders's talents with it.

Maybe he could sneak it out before Anders noticed?

Hawke had just managed to push it under the desk and nudge the chair in front of it when he heard Anders stand. He turned, making sure to plaster an innocent expression on his face.

"You know it's not that late, right?" Anders was playing with the fastenings of his cloak.

"You're right. We should head out, see the sights." Hawke stepped around the bed and closer to Anders, gently nudging his hands aside to take over. "It's not like it's freezing and no one knows who we really are."

"There is that," Anders conceded.

Hawke let the cloak fall, moving to Anders's outer layer and gently beginning to tug it off."There is," he echoed, smiling at him.

Anders shivered lightly, hands falling to Hawke's waist. "The cold's coming in," he murmured.

Hawke breathed out warmth, letting his hands stroke it into Anders's skin. "I won't let you freeze." He gave a lopsided smile, pressing in close to kiss Anders.

Anders shuddered again, but his hands were in Hawke's hair and there was nothing but heat radiating off him.

This was everything he'd needed, and there wasn't the slightest chance in hell that Hawke was going to lose it.


"You were dead in the future."

"That's a little more dreary than your usual pillow talk."

"Sorry."

"Not even a joke?" Anders propped himself up on an elbow, peering down at Hawke in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I…" Hawke exhaled slowly, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. "You're alive," he said eventually, "but I can't…I keep thinking about what happened. You were – you were dead"—his voice cracked—"and it was just…Justice."

Anders's voice was neutral as he said, "As in it being justice I was dead or Justice?"

Hawke dropped his hand, resting his left palm on Anders's heart and watching the interplay of green light with white as lines of light flickered over Anders's skin. "Justice," he murmured, turning on his side to curl into Anders's frame. "He was there. And then he wasn't." He closed his eyes against the memory of that sensation of feeling a spirit die.

"He wasn't a demon then?"

"It was—" Hawke remembered how close Justice had been to the edge when he'd first ran into the spirit in that future. "He wasn't," he settled on saying. "It was strange speaking to him; the last time that happened we were in the Fade and he kept pushing us to get to Feynriel."

"Don't remind me," Anders muttered, bringing a hand up to curl around Hawke's. More cracks of light scattered across his fingers.

"Do you not like him?" Hawke asked, needing to know. "I know I suggested something about this being a weird kind of threesome back in Kirkwall—"

"No, I think that was all Varric."

Hawke ignored the interjection, continuing, "—but you stopped talking about it – him. He – he doesn't think I'm a distraction anymore, does he?"

There was a sharp exhale from Anders, almost like he was surprised. When Hawke looked, he was blinking rapidly.

"He…" Anders closed his eyes, shaking his head lightly. "He doesn't, no. I…I don't know when that stopped." The words were hesitant.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Hawke met Anders's gaze levelly. "You know I love you, right?"

Anders tilted his head, brow furrowing slightly. "No sandwich this time?"

Hawke refused to wince at that reminder. They'd been in the kitchen. What else was he supposed to have said in response to a declaration of love that wasn't in the bedroom? There'd been food in front of him and he'd been hungry. "I love you," he said instead, "all of you."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Hawke pressed his left hand to Anders's chest, drawing attention to where he could feel Justice reaching to the mark. It was a separate sensation from the tingling scent and taste of the Fade that always lingered around Anders. "Because we haven't talked about it, and I didn't even realize it until I saw Justice a year from now."

"Did he talk to you?"

"He said enough." Hawke reached up to Anders's face, lightly tracing the curve of his jaw, seeing cracks of spirit light follow. "I don't want you – either of you – to think that I don't like you. Or that I'm disgusted."

Anders's brow furrowed. "We don't think that."

"But you think I'm neutral to Justice," Hawke said. "Or at least he thinks that." He paused, letting his fingers rest against Anders's cheek. "Is he listening right now?"

"He's always listening," Anders said quietly. There was a glint of light in his eyes, the hazel far brighter than it usually was.

Hawke breathed in the Fade and the scent of Justice's spirit energy, fingers tingling where they touched Anders's skin. "I love you, too. Not just one of you, both of you." He took in shallow breaths, heart thumping painfully against his ribs.

He didn't expect the crackle of spirit energy as Anders's eyes blazed white, lines of light bursting through his skin in trails of lightning. The sudden influx had him breathless and wide-eyed, stunned even as something crushed him to the bed in a fierce hug.

There was enough time to register the tingling all through his body and the way it was almost impossible to breathe in anything but Fade-residue before it faded as quickly as it had started. Hawke was left staring up at the ceiling, Anders pinning him to the bed.

Anders trembled lightly, face buried in Hawke's neck. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, lips moving against skin.

"It's fine," Hawke said dazedly, reaching up to wrap his arms around Anders. "He can do that again if he wants."

Anders shook his head, not budging.

"Anders—"

"Maybe later." Anders was still trembling, but this time there was light peeking through his skin, softer than before. Most of it pooled where Hawke's left hand rested. "I…I'd like to just stay like this."

Hawke closed his eyes, breathing out in a big rush. His arms tightened. "Yes." He managed to turn his head to press his lips to Anders's hair. "I'd like that, too."


The sun was well up the next morning by the time Hawke managed to drag himself out of bed and into the chilly air of the room. He warmed the air with a burst of magic, acknowledging Anders's mumbled "Thanks, love" with a hum.

He was picking his daggers up and considering what he needed to do today before he realized that there was something he'd forgotten to ask.

"What do you make of Solas?" Hawke asked, turning to look back at Anders.

"The elf?" Anders frowned up at the ceiling, one hand pushing against his forehead. "He's…a bit strange. Why?"

"Something Justice told me in the future, but he didn't have time to explain." Hawke sat on the bed, pulling his boots on. "He said to watch him and that he wasn't what he seemed."

"I don't—" Anders cut himself off, frown deepening. "I can't say," he started again, this time more slowly. "Only…he's trying to get justice for something. It's an old desire, but it's still there." He propped himself up on his elbows. "And he's bright, a bit like you."

"He is." Hawke paused, rubbing his chin and abruptly reminded he still needed to shave. "But seeking justice?"

"Or vengeance." Anders sighed, shaking his head. He reached up to tie his hair back. "It's difficult to say. The two are more intertwined than we'd like to admit."

"You don't know for what?"

"You're lucky Justice can get even that much," Anders said dryly. "He's not what he used to be."

The self-deprecating tone it was said in had Hawke's heart hurting. "That's not a bad thing."

Anders gave him a lopsided smile. "You're probably the only one who thinks that."

"Hm." Hawke looked down, frowning. "Solas knows about Justice," he said after a moment.

There were a few seconds of stillness before Anders answered quietly, "Does he?"

"He won't do anything." Hawke reached out to touch Anders's knee where it lay under the blanket. "He wanted to let me know in case I wasn't already aware that my 'contact' was possessed by a spirit."

"I'm surprised he didn't say he would go to Cassandra."

"He apparently has friends who are spirits."

"Okay," Anders said after a pause. "He's definitely odd."

"Then he fits in pretty well, doesn't he?" Hawke slid over and leaned in to kiss Anders. "I'll be keeping an eye on him, though."

Anders tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Don't get caught."

"I'm sneaky," Hawke protested. "Besides, shouldn't I be telling you that?"

"I promise I'll steer clear of Cullen. And Leliana."

"Okay." Hawke deliberately let his shoulders relax. He couldn't ask Anders to stay inside the entire time he was here. That would just be asking for a fireball to the face. "I won't be far."

"I know." Anders reached up to stroke Hawke's cheek. "Go on and do whatever it is heralds do."

"It's just waving my hand and closing rifts at this point."

"You haven't closed the giant one that's right over our heads yet."

"I'll get on that. Right after I shave."


The air was brisk when he stepped outside, a cold gust of wind slapping him in the face and bringing tears to his eyes.

Hawke blinked rapidly, discreetly warming himself up and making sure that no snow around him melted. He glanced to the right, briefly considered going through the doors, then remembered that the Iron Bull was stationed there.

He turned left and headed in the direction of the tavern. He could check on Dorian and make sure that he hadn't gone and insulted someone he shouldn't have.

When Hawke found Dorian, he was reasonably sure that Dorian hadn't insulted anyone since he was still in one piece. Solas was also there, sitting on the stone ledge by his cabin and tending to his staff.

"Oh, hello." Dorian sounded rather chipper despite the bright red flush to his nose and the way his arms were folded around himself. One shoulder was conspicuously bare. "Lovely day, isn't it? Is this as warm as it usually gets in Ferelden?"

"We're in the mountains," Hawke said. "If you wanted to get warm, maybe wearing two sleeves would be a start."

"And deny everyone the sight of these gorgeous arms?" Dorian shuffled his feet, inching closer to Hawke. He leaned in to whisper, "Your friend over there is rather odd, isn't he?"

"I can hear you, you know," Solas said, not looking up.

Dorian didn't look abashed in the least. "You didn't deny it."

Solas gave him a sharp look, eyebrows scrunching together. "Should I have?"

Turning back to Hawke, Dorian leaned in closer. "Odd," he repeated lowly.

Hawke turned his face so Solas couldn't see the way his lips twitched. At the same time, he noticed Dorian's eyes narrowing briefly, body swaying more into Hawke's personal space.

"Is that – what kind of spell is that?" Dorian asked, shuffling even closer.

With only a scant inch between them, Hawke took a step back, warding Dorian off with a raised hand. "It's not."

"No one gives off that much heat naturally." Dorian glanced down. "How is the snow not melting?"

Hawke exhaled loudly through his nose, reaching forward to brush fingers over Dorian's bare shoulder. He pushed out magic, winding it through Dorian's presence in the Fade.

Dorian's eyes widened, a shiver running through him. "What was that?"

Hawke didn't have a chance to answer, Solas stepping close to him. "Fascinating," he said quietly, head tilted to the side. "Where did you learn that?"

"Here and there," Hawke answered, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

"Oh, he knows, too?" Dorian shot Solas a sidelong glance. "So that makes four of us, then?"

"They don't like mages here," Hawke said slowly, not looking at Solas. "And we were the only ones initially."

"Not that Trevelyan said anything," Solas said, dipping his head. "I sensed something amiss. How did you find out?"

Dorian's eyes flicked to Hawke's. "Oh, you know. Travel a year in the future, you learn some things."

"Doubtlessly." Solas inhaled. A flash of magic later, there was warmth coming from him. He smiled slightly in response to Hawke's raised eyebrow. "It's not something you learn in the Circle, which is why I wondered."

"I wasn't always in the Circle."

"A rather good thing, don't you think?" Dorian shook his head, rubbing his hands almost absentmindedly over his arms. "Your Circles seem more akin to prisons than a place to learn."

Hawke's mind turned to the atrocities he'd seen in the Gallows – to Anders. "You'd be right."

"Would that also account for you not accusing me of using blood magic?" Dorian asked. "I've already had to listen to the diatribe from your esteemed Commander Cullen. He's quite remarkable – if one gets past his atrocious fashion sense."

Hawke shrugged, finding no harm in saying flatly, "You don't use blood magic."

Dorian paused, frowning. "Is that supposed to be a threat or a statement of fact?"

"It's only a threat if you use it, but you don't." Hawke tilted his head, keeping his voice deliberately bland. "So I'm not sure why you're feeling threatened."

"That – that was a joke." Dorian blinked. "Wasn't it?"

"How are you so certain he doesn't use blood magic?" Solas sounded curious.

"The same way I know you don't."

Solas raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I simply haven't used it where you can see."

Hawke resisted the urge to sigh for all of a second before giving in and blowing out a breath through his teeth. "I can't explain it, Solas. But Dorian doesn't use blood magic, and you don't either."

Solas studied Hawke for a moment longer before switching his focus to Dorian. "Curious for a Tevinter mage…"

"We don't all approve of the use of blood magic," Dorian huffed. "We may be a minority, but we're still there. It's messy and impractical, and I don't fancy being beholden to a demon."

"Blood magic does not necessarily require working with a demon," Solas said calmly. "Granted, that is usually how mages learn the craft."

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "So you know how to use it?"

"I have some knowledge of how it works, but I have never practiced it myself." Solas glanced askance at Hawke. "It makes it difficult to access the Fade."

The blood mages Hawke had seen all looked so physical, unlike other mages and even non-mages. Even Merrill…every time she used blood magic, it was as if a little more of the Fade drained away from her.

"But you don't disapprove of it," Hawke said flatly.

"Blood magic is a tool like any other magic," Solas answered calmly. "It can be misused just like a sword can be."

Hawke couldn't help but snort. "You sound like a friend of mine. You two would get along well."

"Another mage?"

"Yes."

"You disapprove of blood magic," Solas said slowly, "yet you are friends with a blood mage?"

"It's not my place to police what others do." Hawke shrugged. "I don't like it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to dictate your choices. Unless you hurt me or someone I care about. All bets are usually off in that case."

"He's serious about that, you know," Dorian said. "In case you were wondering."

Solas hummed, saying nothing else for a moment. "You continue to surprise," he said eventually. "I wonder what kind of hero you will be."

Solas had said something of the sort before. Hawke wasn't sure if he liked it anymore the second time around.

"The kind who accidentally blows things up," Hawke said dryly. "Or not-so-accidentally."

"Ha!" Dorian flashed a broad grin. "Nothing wrong with a good explosion, is there?"

"Depends on what the explosion is."

"We are fortunate Cassandra isn't here to hear this," Solas said, smiling wryly.

Hawke shrugged. "She'll hear worse. Probably already has from Varric."

Solas moved his head in acknowledgement of the point. Dorian just snorted.

"Quite a dwarf," Dorian said. "His Tale of the Champion made for interesting reading. It was all the rage in Tevinter, you know." His voice was far too amused, eyes bright with laughter.

"I wouldn't," Hawke responded, lips twitching into a stiff smile. "I didn't read it."

Although his friends had while Varric had been publishing the individual chapters in Kirkwall. Hawke had heard enough about it secondhand to know that he didn't need to read it to see what Varric made of his life story.

How heroic did one need to be, anyway?

According to Varric, the answer was very.

It made for disappointing people when they actually met him, especially if he didn't live up to what Varric had written about him.

"The mages are coming today, are they not?" Solas asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Hawke shot him a surprised look at the unexpected change in topic. "They are. I warned them about the templars."

"You have Cole watching them," Solas said noncommittally. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you accepted him."

Hawke couldn't keep the surprise out of his tone as he asked, "You've met Cole?"

Solas gave him an enigmatic smile. "I'm familiar with spirits. Cole may look human but he doesn't act like one. He said you wanted him to make sure the mages and templars don't fight."

Hawke wasn't entirely sure what Solas's point was. "The last thing we need is a brawl."

"It wasn't a critique, merely an observation." Solas tucked his hands behind his back. "A wise choice considering Cole's talents."

"Do I want to know who this Cole is or am I better off not knowing?" Dorian sounded wary.

"A spirit," Solas answered before Hawke could. "Of what I am not entirely certain. I will need to observe him more."

"They're actually letting a spirit wander around?" Dorian's voice was disbelieving.

"Cole didn't give them much choice in the matter," Hawke said wryly. "It's difficult to catch what you can't see." He rolled his shoulders, discreetly slipping more magic towards Dorian to keep him warm. "On that note, I'll sneak off myself. Pretend you didn't see me."

Dorian deliberately turned towards Solas. "Lovely weather we're having today, isn't it? How do you Fereldans stand it?"

Hawke slipped away, but not before he heard Solas respond. "I wouldn't know, as I am not Fereldan."

Heading in the direction of Leliana's tent, Hawke lingered long enough for her to confirm that the mages hadn't arrived yet and would he please check with Blackwall to see if he really didn't know anything about the Wardens' disappearance?

Considering Blackwall still looked confused and slightly dismayed anytime someone brought up the Wardens, Hawke highly doubted he had different answers now. It didn't matter if the person asking the questions was Cassandra, Leliana, or Hawke.

But he promised to try nonetheless and then made his escape, sitting down on the wall right by Varric's fire.

Varric started a bit at seeing Hawke sitting there, heels tapping against the cold stone. "Mind giving a little warning?"

"And miss out on surprising you?" Hawke gave him a quick grin.

Varric rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're an ass."

"Nice try, but shape shifting isn't in my repertoire."

Hawke swore he heard Varric mutter "Yet" but there wasn't anything else forthcoming.

Not that Hawke could become a shape shifter. Yes, turning into a fire-breathing dragon would be cool, but unfortunately that wasn't something he could do. Not without possibly killing himself in the process, and Hawke rather liked being alive.

"I'm surprised you're out here," Varric said after Hawke jumped down from the wall to move closer to the fire.

"As opposed to being inside?" Hawke let his magic go, feeling the warmth siphon away from him. He shifted towards the fire, letting the natural heat soak into his skin.

"Yes." Varric shot a look in the direction of Hawke's cabin.

"He's not staying inside either," Hawke said, not looking away from the flames.

"You're sure that's a good idea?"

"No," Hawke admitted, eyes flickering up to meet Varric's, "but I can't force him to stay hidden. He'll be fine."

"You telling me that or yourself?"

"Both?" Hawke managed a small grin. "He can handle himself."

"No kidding." Varric rubbed his chin. "He should still stay away from Curly, though. You've slid by, but he hasn't done anything and Curly knows him."

"He knows." Hawke pulled his hands away from the fire, bringing them to his thighs. "I wouldn't have thought you'd care."

"If the shit hits the fan, it's not going to be pretty," Varric said flatly. "Of course I care."

"You'll be clear of that when it happens," Hawke said slowly, swallowing down a painful lump. "Not like the last time."

Varric didn't say anything for a long moment. When Hawke looked up at him, there was a strange expression on his friend's face that he wasn't sure how to interpret.

"Right." Varric blinked, shaking his head slightly. "Uh…how you doing with the Iron Bull?"

"I've no idea," Hawke said, managing a slightly cheerful tone, "since I haven't seen him since we met yesterday. Why – have you talked to him?"

"Yeah." Varric pointed to the tavern. "We grabbed a drink. He's not bad as Qunari go. Definitely a little odd."

"Good odd or bad odd?"

"He's got a name that's not like every other Qunari." Varric shrugged. "I dunno. Try not to stab him? It'd piss Ruffles off, and no one wants a pissy diplomat."

"He hasn't done anything," Hawke said, dropping his eyes to his hands. His chest gave a twang, a reminder of something that shouldn't be forgotten.

"I know," Varric said quietly. He paused, then came closer. "You okay?" His voice was a whisper.

"I'm fine." Hawke resisted the urge to rub at his chest, pulling in a cold breath and looking towards the gate. It was open, but he couldn't see any sign of the Iron Bull. "I should check on things."

"Right." Varric still sounded concerned. "Just…watch yourself, yeah?"

"It'll be fine." Hawke dropped a hand to Varric's shoulder.

Varric didn't say anything else until Hawke was several feet away, his voice quietly drifting after him. "That's not what I asked."

Pretending not to hear, Hawke continued down the steps and towards the gates. He couldn't help but glance towards the cabin, but he couldn't sense Anders in it. He did sense Anders elsewhere – thankfully not in the direction Cullen was in.

The Iron Bull was also nowhere in sight, at least until he stepped past the gates and immediately found a horned Qunari in his peripheral vision.

Hawke flinched back, only just managing to disguise the instinctive reaction as stepping on a slippery patch of snow.

"Hey, boss," the Iron Bull greeted, not sounding at all suspicious.

"Am I?" Hawke asked before he could think the better of it.

The Iron Bull didn't blink – or, well, he did, but it was a natural blink. "So you're not the one these guys follow?"

"Not…so much?" Hawke wasn't entirely sure how to answer that, glancing back at Cassandra. She'd been the one to put this whole thing together. "Honestly, I'm just the guy with the shiny hand."

"An Inquisition without an Inquisitor… Huh." The Iron Bull rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Should've figured."

"Cassandra's the one who's been spearheading this," Hawke said, jerking his thumb in Cassandra's direction.

"She might've organized it, but she's not the one making the decisions, is she?"

Hawke opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't exactly say she was, could he?

"Yeah, I figured," the Iron Bull said a long moment later, nodding decisively. "So…boss." He pointed to Hawke, grinning slyly.

The sight was odd on a Qunari. Hawke hadn't really seen a Qunari grin before. If he had, it was usually preceded by spearing someone – probably him – on the sharp end of their weapon.

Shifting his weight, Hawke pulled at his collar before he could think the better of it, telling himself to breathe. "You're the only Qunari here?" he asked, trying for some conversation so the Iron Bull wouldn't think he was being suspicious.

He was Ben-Hassrath, after all. One who was confident enough about his skills that he'd told Leliana and would let her look through his reports before sending them off.

Hawke's only experience with a Ben-Hassrath agent was Tallis, and she hadn't really been representative of Qunari (or the Ben-Hassrath). Only annoying and far too convinced that the Qunari were right, even if her heart had been in the right place.

"Unless there's someone else lurking around that I haven't noticed," the Iron Bull answered easily. "Your advisors must've updated you on the details, right?"

"There wasn't exactly a book they could hand me, but sure."

The Iron Bull snorted, eye crinkling. "Nice sense of humor you've got there, boss. Think you'll keep it?"

Hawke tilted his head, unease curling in his chest. The Iron Bull seemed so unthreatening. There had to be a catch. "I haven't lost it yet, so yes."

"You're an optimist, huh?" The Iron Bull nodded once, solemnly. "Good to know. You and Krem should get along well."

"Krem?"

"My second." The Iron Bull jerked his thumb in the direction of some tents, where Hawke could see a young man in armor milling about.

"Krem isn't Qunari?" Hawke asked before he could stop himself.

"No." The Iron Bull shrugged easily. "Like I said, it's just me."

"But they're fine working with one?"

"I haven't gotten any complaints, but feel free to ask them yourself."

"I—"

Cullen's call cut Hawke off. "Herald!"

Hawke turned at hearing the other's footsteps, still keeping the Iron Bull in his peripheral vision. "Hm?"

"The mages are here," Cullen said, eyes flicking once to the Iron Bull before returning to Hawke. "If you can, it would be good to meet with the Grand Enchanter and make plans for how we're going to approach the Breach."

Hawke dipped his head, exhaling at the reminder of what they still needed to do. "Right." The word was quiet. "Get them settled in first." He looked up at Cullen. "Without the templars looking over their shoulders."

Cullen's mouth pinched at that. "I may not like it," he said in a clipped tone, "but that doesn't mean I'll go back on what you promised. The mages will be allies." Giving Hawke one last look, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the gates.

"Gotta admit, offering the mages an alliance was a gutsy move," the Iron Bull said after a moment.

Hawke whipped his head around far too quickly to be casual, but he managed to avoid the instinctive flinch back. Pulling in a breath, he shifted his feet and met the Iron Bull's eye. "A gutsy move is a Qunari leading a mercenary band that joined the Inquisition formed by a Seeker. By that standard, allying with the mages is probably a three at best."

"Well, when you put it like that…" The Iron Bull shrugged those massive shoulders, drawing his arms up to fold them across his chest. He glanced back at the Breach swirling in the sky. "A hole like that, you'll need a lot of firepower to close it. Guess the mages are a good tool for that."

Hawke didn't answer, gaze following the Iron Bull's to fix on the hole to the Fade. He'd grown used to ignoring how it felt, nerves desensitizing to the constant feel of the Fade brushing up against him. But it was so damn unnatural.

There shouldn't be a hole to the Fade in the sky.

New voices from behind him had Hawke turning, catching sight of the mages entering camp. They were a mixed bunch, adults and children grouped together. Most wore robes, but there were some who wore trousers and tunics. The adults flinched away from the sight of the templars, but there fortunately were no violent responses.

On the templars' part, they did a relatively good job of looking as harmless as they possibly could, not one of them reaching for their weapons.

Hawke could see Fiona in the forefront, walking alongside Cullen and listening to whatever he was saying. He was also gesturing towards the village.

"That's a lot of mages," the Iron Bull said quietly.

"Worried?" Hawke asked automatically, a slight teasing note entering his tone. But he also couldn't help but notice that there were a lot of mages, and Haven wasn't that big. Not unless they wanted to be right up against the templars.

"I'm usually a little worried about people who can set me on fire," the Iron Bull said dryly.

"I heard the fire setting's only for those who deliberately antagonize them." Hawke flashed his teeth at the Iron Bull, rather gratified when the Qunari took a small step backwards. Although, really, it wasn't like he was going to be setting anyone on fire while still pretending to be a rogue.

Backing away from the Iron Bull, Hawke waved at him and then proceeded to back up closer to the gate, half his attention still on the Iron Bull and the rest on the mages.

Fiona was still talking with Cullen, and he could tell that some of the other mages were getting antsy from how they were looking at the templars. Orsino wasn't anywhere in sight – probably somewhere in the group where Cullen couldn't see him – and Fiona was too busy to do much.

Without a second thought, Hawke headed towards them.

If he wasn't going to be helping the mages, he'd be staring up at that hole in the sky, and the last thing Hawke wanted was to spend more time staring into the Fade than necessary.


It was some time later when Hawke was setting up a tent for a woman and a young child when someone spoke to him about something that wasn't related to how many tents he could please set up.

"I'm glad to see you are well." Orsino's voice was quiet.

Hawke glanced back at him, seeing that Orsino had a hooded cloak on that hid his elfish features from Cullen. Another glance showed that Cullen wasn't anywhere near. "Should I not be?"

"I admit I had my doubts after the mess in Kirkwall," Orsino admitted.

The words had Hawke pausing where he was pulling on a rope to straighten the cloth out. Then, not looking back at Orsino, he asked, "When did you figure it out?"

"The first night when we met in Redcliffe," Orsino answered. "It's likely I wouldn't have were it not for the dwarf and healer at your side. There is only one man I know who feels as strongly as you do and backs it up with action."

"And you didn't immediately turn us out on our asses?" Hawke shot him an incredulous look.

Orsino's face turned puzzled. "Why would I have? We needed help and you offered it. That it was you was unexpected fortune."

"I'm fortunate?" Hawke snorted, stepping on the bolt in the icy ground and pressing it down deeper with a small application of heat to melt the dirt. No one noticed the use of magic. "That's a first."

"We would not be here were it not for you," Orsino said, a bite in his words. "That is indeed fortunate."

"Kirkwall collapsed around our ears," Hawke hissed, stepping around the tent to secure the other bolts, "and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. I helped cause it. So why in the Void would you want my help?"

Orsino followed Hawke, stepping in close to drop his voice so no one else could hear. "What happened in Kirkwall wasn't your fault. You tried to help, but it was a band-aid on an open wound. You did more than anyone could have hoped, but what Meredith did is not your blame to shoulder."

"Who blew up the Chantry?" Hawke murmured, unmoving and looking down at his feet.

A heavy sigh was Orsino's initial response. His voice was weary as he said, "You and I both know that Meredith would have found some way of calling for the Rite of Annulment regardless of what happened that night. The Chantry may have given her an excuse, but she would have found another if it hadn't happened."

Hawke didn't say that it wasn't supposed to have played out like that. The words stuck in his throat, and he shuffled his feet, snow crunching under his weight.

"Thank you," Orsino said quietly, resting a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "There's no one else I trust to face the threat that looms over us now. The Maker blessed us with your presence…Champion." The last word was a whisper, a breath of air that only Hawke caught.

Then he was gone, moving into the crowd of mages, cloak sweeping out behind him.

Hawke spent another moment staring at his feet, head bowed as his fingers flexed where they were holding onto a rope of the tent. After a few more seconds, he shook his head, refocusing on his task.

When he was done with that tent, the woman and child both thanked him profusely, the child looking up at him with more awe than putting up a tent merited and the woman reaching out to hug him briefly.

Once detangling himself from the two, Hawke wondered just how many mages knew who he was.

Knowing his luck, it would be all of them.


It didn't seem to be all of them, as Fiona didn't treat him differently or shoot him sidelong looks like some mages had done while he was helping set up their camp. She just asked him if he was doing fine and thanked him again for giving the mages another chance.

And then they were swept into a discussion with Cullen and Cassandra as to when the mages would be prepared to tackle the Breach.

The general consensus was it would take at least a day to make sure the mages were rested and Fiona could see who was up to the task, but it took so much arguing and back-and-forth that Hawke eventually just ended up flipping through the giant Inquisition charter book that was still lying in the war room.

Even Cassandra's sidelong glare wasn't enough to make him stop.

It was late evening when Hawke finally managed to leave the Chantry, Fiona close on his heels. They'd agreed to try to close the Breach in two days to give everyone enough time to prepare.

Hawke wasn't sure if there was such a thing as enough time to prepare to close a thing like a hole to the Fade. But he wasn't in charge of rallying the troops so he supposed it wasn't really his job to evaluate that.

He just needed to make sure he didn't pass out like he had last time.

But that was what the mages were supposed to help with, right?

Shaking the thought off, Hawke dipped his head to Fiona as she headed towards the gates and the mages' camp. They were still settling in when Hawke had left, but at least all the tents had been set up and the templars had stayed clear.

Haven was dark except for the fires and torches lit, providing a warm ambience that was only slightly marred by the green glow of the Breach.

Anders was sitting by the campfire with Varric, hood drawn up to hide his features. It left him looking rather suspicious but better that than Cullen recognizing him.

"All sorted out?" Varric asked when Hawke came by.

"The day after tomorrow," Hawke answered, unable to resist looking up at the glowing hole in the sky. It was a lot more obvious in the dark without sunlight to combat the glow.

"I'd have thought they'd want to do it immediately," Anders said, reaching up to take hold of Hawke's closest hand and pull him down to sit.

Hawke pulled over a blanket to sit on, bumping shoulders against Anders's. "Cullen wanted to but they need to make sure they've got everything sorted out. Like how to help so they don't blow something up. Like me."

"Blowing up the Herald would put a crimp in things," Varric agreed, nodding sagely. He sobered an instant later. "Are you ready?"

"You should know by now that I was born ready."

"And here I thought the glowy hand was a new thing."

Anders folded his hand around Hawke's left, cracks of white bursting through skin at the contact. "How is it?"

"It's not threatening to kill me right now." Hawke flexed his fingers at the feeling of Justice so close. "It doesn't hurt if that's what you're wondering."

"It's a literal door to the Fade," Anders said quietly, lifting his head enough for Hawke to see his shadowed eyes. "I'd be surprised if it wasn't hurting."

"Is that why Justice is so interested?" Hawke murmured.

"It's the actual Fade," Anders replied, dipping his head. "He hasn't been that close in a long time." He hesitated, his next words a whisper. "Does it…bother you?"

Hawke turned his head, leaning closer to Anders's head. The hood blocked any skin contact, but he could still lean in. "It's fine, remember? All of you."

Anders's grip tightened, the only indication Hawke had that he'd heard.

A moment later, Varric coughed, sounding embarrassed. "Well…you two planning on sleeping in my tent tonight? Can't say I'd be upset about sleeping at yours tonight."

Hawke turned back, flashing Varric a teasing smile. "Not much of a voyeur, Varric?"

"Get a bedroom and we'll talk," Varric said. "Otherwise no, since I'm not really into foursomes."

"But that's the best part!" Anders quipped, teeth glinting in the firelight.

"Are you implying something?" Hawke asked.

"Not at all," Anders said. "Only that Varric isn't considering Bianca. Which makes it a five-some." He paused. "Quintuplet? Or is it an orgy at that point?"

Hawke decided it was time to leave when Varric looked like he was seriously considering the merits of throwing something.


"There's something I don't understand."

"Hm?" He looked up, seeing Anders chewing on the end of his pen. "I don't think you should be chewing on that."

"What?" Anders pulled the pen out, only to stare at it in bafflement. "I thought I got rid of that habit," he muttered. Shaking his head, he put the pen down. "There's something I don't understand," he repeated.

"What is it?"

"Why you're so – so…"

"Me?" he suggested, smiling brightly.

Anders actually paused, considering that. "You," he agreed eventually.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?"

"It's not bad," Anders said. "I've just…well…you know the first time we met? We – I didn't know what to make of you. Justice didn't. You didn't look like anyone else I've ever seen."

"I'm starting to think there's something very wrong with my face that no one's told me about."

"Your face's fine," Anders said, not seeming to realize that he'd been joking. He was frowning. "It's…Maker, I don't have words for this. It's a feeling. You just seemed like…more. Like…take Merrill."

"What about Merrill?" He was getting increasingly alarmed now.

"Merrill's a mage, even if she uses blood magic. But put you two next to each other, and I could pick you out blindfolded. There's something about you that just overshadows everything else. I haven't seen it with anyone else."

He didn't respond, head ducking as he studied the floor.

There was a long silence, which was broken by Anders scooting his chair back and coming closer. "Love?" He sounded nervous.

"You're bright," he said finally, looking up to meet Anders's worried eyes. "So bright. It was the first thing I noticed when I saw you. I didn't know what it was until I saw Justice later that night. It's something I can see and something I can feel about you." He reached out tentatively to take hold of Anders's hand, breathing in the essence of the Fade that was always around Anders. "I don't know how to describe it, only that I'm always aware of the Fade. Maybe that's what you're seeing."

Anders was silent, but he gripped back reassuringly. "You…you're close to the Fade," he said eventually, quietly. "That's what it is." He reached out to run fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. "We – Justice finds it soothing. Always has," he murmured. "It's why we trusted you."

"Oh."

"It's not why I fell in love with you," Anders continued softly, untangling their hands to reach up and cup his face.

"Was it my dashing good looks?" he quipped, mouth dry.

Light flickered in Anders's eyes, and the taste of the Fade sharpened on his tongue. "Because you care."

Anders was already leaning down, but he was the one who reached up to close the rest of the distance.


I think next chapter is the Breach? And then we fall into chaos. (Maaayyyheeem)

Sera and Vivienne aren't yet in the party, but they have their own planned debut roles. Albeit far later than in the game because Hawke isn't going to Val Royeaux. No, he has things to do. (Josephine is in despair. Cullen rather approves of this straightforward character, even if he can't get over the idea that he's rather familiar.)