Boring chapter is boring. We're getting to some good stuff next time at least. Just fyi in this chapter, Korcari bacon is, as determined by the incredible Predestination Paradox, is the DA universe's equivalent of Canadian bacon. Love you guys!


After dinner, the warrior and the mage spent their evening together just lying in bed. For all the time the two were rough with each other, this was something they cherished. A dimly lit room, freshly washed sheets, and just the warmth of one another. They didn't need to talk; they were able to say everything they needed with their hands and lips, gently exploring every inch of skin. They hadn't done this in a while what with Anders becoming more and more consumed with everything, his day work spreading into night. To Hawke, it almost seemed like this in itself could be their romantic evening. But he was determined to give his mage more.

Just as soon as he had fallen asleep in his lover's arms, Hawke found himself waking up to the morning light shining in through the high windows of his bedroom. He stretched and yawned, grasping the blanket that covered him, holding onto the warmth and comfort of the evening before. But as he rolled over onto his back, he quickly became aware that what lie below him was far more firm than his king sized bed.

How the fuck does this always happen? the warrior thought to himself. He pulled the blanket off as he climbed up from his place on the floor. He was at the foot of the bed, a place he'd woken up all too often from not being able to sleep still. On the night that he and Anders had finally expressed their love for one another, Hawke had joked to him about how it was dangerous business sleeping next to him. And he wasn't kidding; if he didn't fall to the floor in the middle of the night, he'd end up kicking and failing to the other side. How Anders dealt with it, the warrior had no idea. But he was thankful for it. He had half a mind to walk over and thank his lover for covering him with a blanket, but the bed was empty per usual considering the sun had already come up.

But he could hardly be upset; he had a lot of work to do today to get ready for the next. Once he dressed for the morning, he started searching around his room for possible manifesto hiding places. A copy on the desk, one in the night stand, and, yes, here's one in the fucking lute. Grabbing the pile of parchment, he ran down the steps and into the kitchen where he saw Orana and Bodahn making breakfast.

"Oh Sweet Andraste, are you making what I think you're making?" Orana turned to smile at him before returning back to her work, but Bodahn, greeted him and informed him of the menu.

"Ah, yes! We have Orlesian toast with syrup and Korcari bacon for you this morning. It's almost ready. You may take a seat in the dining room, if you please, and it will be right out."

"Nope, no time for that," Hawke said as he went over to start piling his weight's worth of food onto a plate. "I need to do a lot of things today, so I'm going to eat this in library." He grabbed the plate, setting it on top of his pile of papers and started to exit the room.

"Wait," Bodahn pleaded, turning the warrior's attention back towards him. "At least take some silverware this time. The last time you had syrup in there, the book pages all started sticking together."

"Syrup!" Hawke exclaimed. "I nearly forgot. Orana, can you bring the syrup to me and just pour some in my mouth?"

"Master Hawke?" Orana asked, desperate for some clarification.

"Come on, I'm losing daylight here." He opened his mouth and waited for her as though he were a hungry babe.

"Could I not just pour it on your plate?" she asked, carrying the sweet syrup over to him.

"And get it on the bacon? Never." Hawke had certain quirks about him that not everyone could begin to understand. Foods did not touch other types of food. Anything that had a label, be it canned food or books, was to be categorized by type and then placed on its shelf in alphabetical order. And Anders was to pick up after himself. The mage certainly didn't abide by this last rule often, but he did his best to understand where the warrior was coming from. The man's life had been spent on the run and in hiding before Kirkwall; it lacked stability and order. And, in the warrior's desperation to keep things just so, he often had strange requests, syrup in his mouth included. He waited for the elf to do as he asked, but he could see how uncomfortable she was. He just sighed, setting down his plate and parchment on a counter, and took the syrup from her. He poured some into his mouth and smiled, a small bit dripping from between his lips. Collecting his things, he ran from the room, headed towards the library.

Bodahn and Orana went back to work, this time tidying the kitchen, but they were interrupted when the warrior came running back in the room grasping desperately at a pitcher of water so he could drink. He managed to pour a little more than half of its contents down his front rather than in his mouth, but he at least found that he was now able to breathe. "Oh Maker, why did you let me do that? I almost died choking on that stuff. It lures you in with its sweet taste, wanting you to just drink it all up. But it's lies, I tell you; a death trap."

Neither member of his staff said a word as they looked up at the panting human, resting against a wall.

"Ok, then," Hawke managed once he realized a response was never coming. "I'm actually glad I came back in here because I need the two of you to help me today." He went on to assign Bodahn with the task of picking up several things at the market that he would need for the following day with Anders. His order to Orana was to make sure that he wasn't disturbed by anyone or anything unless it was urgent. They both accepted their requests and went on with their duties, and that left the warrior to go back to his breakfast on a manifesto-covered table.

As the minutes turned into hours, the warrior found himself growing frustrated. He worked through the pages of his lover's writing, and found passages here and there that could work for his fantasy. Each line he found was copied onto the back of his list of romantic ideas, but he felt disheartened with how short this new list seemed to be. How Thedas' new master of romance would spread this throughout an entire evening was a mystery.

Once it was close to nightfall, Orana entered the library where Hawke was working to memorize his lines. She excused herself for bothering him, but felt it was necessary because a letter marked 'Urgent' had arrived from Varric. The warrior gratefully took it from her, and was pleased to find out through the letter's contents that everything had been set up for tomorrow's festivities. He and Anders would need to leave for Sundermount fairly early in the morning, as there would be a picnic (complete with lobsters and their terrifying eyes) around 6 in the evening. A boat ride would take place afterwards, and the nicest room at the inn had been booked for them for the night.

Confidence fully restored, Hawke smiled and went back to his work. He had managed to find very few lines that he felt suitable.. But he knew that wouldn't be a problem. iI am a sex god,/i he thought to himself. Anders is going to be so into it that he's not even going to hear what I'm saying. I could probably recite the Chant of Light or read off some Templar anti-mage propaganda and he'd get off on it. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Everything was going to be perfect.


By the time Anders made it home, it was well past midnight, and he was almost too exhausted to make it up the stairs to the bedroom, let alone shed his clothes before falling asleep. But somehow, he gathered the strength to do so, and, for once in his life, drifted off into the fade as soon as his head hit his pillow. Hawke, on the other hand, found that sleep would be impossible on this night. He managed to stay quiet while the other man joined him in bed, but his mind was racing, thinking about the activities that would take place in a matter of hours.

His goal was to get up before Anders and head off for some last minute preparations. And luckily for him, the lack of being able to sleep made that task easier than anticipated. By the time he'd had enough of lying awake in bed, he quietly snuck out of the room and down to the lounge where he had stored some light armor to wear, his greatsword, and a pack of supplies – food and water for the road, rope, oil, and, due to the nagging reminder from his late mother, a few extra pairs of smallclothes.