Hangover

by DragonSapphire

"How do I keep waking up like this?" Hawke groaned. F!Hawke/Varric

13. Chapter 13

When Varric got out of bed and wordlessly started dressing, Hawke didn't ask where he was going. Of course he would take it upon himself to do whatever he perceived to be in her best interest. If that meant tracking down his girlfriend's something-more-than-friends and dragging them back to the Hanged Man kicking and screaming then there was no question that he would do it.

Hawke wanted so badly for Varric to be enough, for him to be all that she needed to be well again. They were partners, equals, and friends as well as lovers, but somewhere along the way she had fractured into four separate pieces and she was aching to be whole again. She didn't know what she needed from Anders or Fenris exactly. There was a very real possibility that the way Anders watched her or the way Fenris touched her was all in her head. It could also be the result of being in a high-stress, close-contact situation whose effects would fade with a bit of much-needed distance.

Anders and Fenris had certainly become more tactile and let down many of their guards, which was easy enough to mistake for trust or desire. Being involved in a four-way relationship was far too much for even her to handle, but at the very least Hawke wanted to prove to herself that she wasn't dreaming. She had a reoccurring fear that only she and Varric had actually escaped, that Anders and Fenris' bodies were mouldering down in the Deep Roads while she wallowed in comfort.

When Varric started tugging on his boots, Hawke shook herself out of her temporary paralysis and climbed out of bed as well.

"I'm coming," Hawke said as she started pulling open his dresser drawers to find something to wear even if she'd have to literally belt herself into whatever she found decent enough to wear out in public.

"Wait," Varric said.

Hawke turned on him with a snarl, a pair of too-large socks clutched in her fist. He held his hands up in a gesture meant to calm, but Hawke knew with absolute certainty that she would chew through the door if she had to stay one more hour cooped up in this room.

"Easy, sweetheart. Of course you can come. Frankly, I think we both could use some fresh air, but before we go I have something for you," Varric said.

"When did you have time to get me a present?" Hawke asked suspiciously.

Varric hummed and wiggled one hand back and forth in the air. "Eh, technically it's not from me? Have a seat. You'll see what I mean in a second."

Hawke looked at him and then to the socks in her hand before slowly setting them back in the drawer. She was curious enough to actually do as she was told and sat down bare-assed on the chair at his desk. Most of his mail had been arranged into manageable stacks, but he'd also been working practically non-stop since they'd gotten back. Busy work was probably just as much of an escape as sleep was for her. She hadn't paid attention to the heap of parcels on the floor next to the desk, but her eyebrows rose when Varric lifted the pile and set it down in front of her.

"For me? You shouldn't have."

"I didn't, even though I'd love to claim credit. Open this one first before it starts to go stale."

Varric removed a smaller square package from atop the pile and handed it over to her. Hawke wouldn't put it past him to have screened her mail, but it was strange that her mail was being forwarded here in the first place. As far as she was aware, only the Hanged Man's staff knew she was here. Varric would have paid them off well enough that even Corff, who lived for gossip, would keep his mouth shut. If her family and friends knew she was back then they would have broken down the door looking for her by now, surely. Hawke opened the box and made a noise of interest and confusion when she saw its contents.

"A cupcake? But my birthday's not until spring," Hawke said. She lifted the treat out of the box and got blue frosting all over her fingers. "Should I be inspecting this for poison?"

"No poison, I promise. But I can always test it out for you first…" Varric said, making a playful grab for the cupcake and nearly getting his fingers bitten off in the process.

Hawke hummed and sucked her fingers into her mouth as she regarded the decoration on the cake which featured a tiny yellow circle with lines coming out of it like spokes on a wagon wheel. A sun?

"Wait… Is this from Aveline?" she said as a memory clicked in her head. She never did get to eat any of Bethany's birthday cake thanks to her own ineptitude and the black hole Snowflake had in place of an actual stomach. It was a bit unusual that Aveline would send Hawke her very own tiny cake now, of all times.

"Aveline," Varric confirmed, managing to swipe a bit of frosting and pop his finger into his mouth before Hawke could fight him for it.

She took a large bite just to spite him, smearing the frosting all over her mouth. The cake was a little dry and the sheer amount of sugar in the frosting alone nearly made her gag. She managed to chew and swallow before washing down the rest of her mouthful with the goblet of water Varric handed her. Hawke regarded the rest of the packages – four in all if Hawke counted the cupcake Aveline had sent her.

"Are these…'get well soon' gifts?" she asked, bewildered.

"Got it in one, beautiful. Sorry if I overstepped, but something told me you weren't exactly up for visitors yet," he said, fidgeting a little with the twine wrapped around one particularly lumpy parcel. Merrill's twine, if she wasn't mistaken.

"No," Hawke said slowly, setting aside the uneaten portion of her cupcake and brushing her hands against her thighs. "It's fine, I guess. I'm probably not the best company right now anyway."

She'd spent days hiding in Varric's room like a particularly depressed gremlin without even so much as poking her head out of the door. She didn't even know how much time had actually passed, but enough that word had gotten around to her friends. She was touched that the others cared enough to send her presents and leave her to recover in peace rather than smother her with well-meaning intentions – as Hawke was wont to do herself.

She was having a hard time swallowing - probably due to the cake sticking in the back of her throat – and held out her hand for the next package. Varric handed her Merrill's gift without further prompting. Hawke untied the twine and peeled away the scrap of brownish-green fabric Merrill had used in place of wrapping paper. Inside was a small clay pot that contained vibrant red paste. Hawke eventually figured out that it was supposed to be kaddis. Remembering her last misadventure with a knockoff version of the face paint she wore, Hawke sniffed the paint cautiously and, when her sinus passage didn't immediately threaten to close up, dabbed a bit on the inside of her forearm to make sure she didn't have a reaction.

Varric passed her Isabela's gift next. Hawke knew the identity of the sender immediately because Isabela had scribbled very graphic and anatomically correct penises ejaculating all over the brown paper. The sight of the Isabela's drawings and an entire short story of 'friend fiction' on the reverse side involving Varric and several of Isabela's toys drew the first smile out of Hawke in days.

"Oh, do you think it's a strap-on?" Hawke said, picking up the box and giving it an experimental shake. "I've always wanted one of those."

"A what?" Varric asked. Apparently, he hadn't taken a peek at this present before giving it to her. He eyed the box nervously when Hawke grinned at him with a truly evil expression.

"A strap-on. It's a harness that I can wear and attach a fake cock to so I can fuck that sweet ass of yours."

"Over my dead body!" Varric spluttered. He made a frantic grab for the box but Hawke anticipated him and stood up quickly, holding the box high overhead so he couldn't possibly reach unless he stood on the chair or desk.

"Ah ah! That's not very sporting of you, Varric," Hawke teased, dancing away when Varric actually did start to climb on the chair.

"Weren't the knickers bad enough?" he whined, making a half-hearted swipe for the box.

"Now, you're just giving me ideas. What do you say, honey? Want to be my pretty little wife? Welcome me home every day wearing nothing but a pair of knickers, ready for me to fuck you with my giant cock?"

"Uh, Hawke?" Varric said. He'd paused with his hand outstretched toward the box and was now staring at her, wide-eyed and a little stunned.

"…Kidding?" Hawke said unconvincingly, suddenly feeling a little off-kilter.

She cleared her throat and lowered the box back down. She hugged it against her chest as she tried to think of what Isabela might give to someone like Hawke who she believed to be in need of cheering up. The possibilities were endless and more than likely outlawed in several countries.

"I may as well open it before we both expire from the anticipation," she said.

"I'm fine with holding off a little longer. Or indefinitely."

Varric knelt on the seat of the chair and squeezed his hands against the backing as he watched Hawke remove the lid with an expression of pure trepidation. He was probably wondering whether or not he should get a head start and run for it while he had the chance.

"Huh. Well, I've seen bigger," Hawke mused.

"What? What is it?" Varric demanded, straining to see.

Hawke lifted out a long, elegantly curved dagger of Antivan design and gave it an experimental twirl. She noted how the leather grip molded to fit her hand and the excellent balance. Isabela did have the best taste in shafts of all kind.

Varric went limp with relief at the sight of the weapon but had to scramble to catch when Hawke tossed the dagger to him hilt-first. Varric handled the dagger just as well as any duelist and tested the sharpness on a piece of parchment. Hawke hoped the letter wasn't important because the blade sliced right through like water. She set the box containing the dagger's twin aside, touched by the unexpected gifts and the thoughtfulness of her friends.

"I wonder how Isabela knew I could use these?" Hawke mused knowing Varric was an even bigger gossip than Corff.

"Lucky guess?" Varric said guilelessly as he handed the dagger back without chucking it at her head. "And…I might have mentioned something. They're not enchanted like your last ones, though."

Hawke took the dagger back and started to reply, but then she caught a glimpse of her face in the polished metal and all but swallowed her tongue. Unable to stop herself, Hawke angled the dagger for closer inspection.

The reflection was of someone Hawke didn't even recognize. Her hair had the consistency of straw and fell into her eyes, which were a pale, ghostly blue compared to the much deeper bruising beneath her eyes. Her cheekbones were razor sharp, her nose reddened from all the crying she'd been doing lately, and her lips were thin and cracked with tiny stress lines at the corners. With her fingers curled around the dagger's hilt, seeing the ragged and broken remains of her fingernails - the ones still attached to her fingers, at any rate - was unavoidable.

"I think I need a makeover," Hawke said with a broken laugh at the wraith staring back at her with large, haunted eyes.

"That can be arranged," Varric said as he reached out and gently took the dagger from her trembling hand, setting it down on his desk. "But first you have one more gift. This one is courtesy of Norah. They're nothing fancy but I figure they're better than running around in my tunics. Not that I'm complaining, mind."

The last parcel contained a set of clothing along with socks and plain underthings roughly Hawke's size. The shirt and trousers were so new that the cotton and wool was still scratchy with harsh dyes that would bleed into her skin if she sweated. The clothing was thick and warm, though, and far nicer than anything she currently owned.

She'd gotten so used to not wearing anything that the itchy wool felt foreign and uncomfortable against her skin, but it at least brought some warmth into her chilled body. Hawke was cold more often than not even though Varric kept the fireplace and several braziers lit at all times. Varric seemed determined to chase away the darkness and doubled or tripled the number of candles scattered around his room. The brightness bothered Hawke but she didn't say anything, figuring light was a comfort to him like burying herself under piles of blankets was for her.

True to his word, Varric gave her the royal treatment after Hawke got dressed. Hawke sat on the floor so he could reach her and Varric gave her another trim with an actual pair of shears. Hawke trusted him to not make her look like a shorn lamb, but she still ran her fingers through her hair afterward to check for bald patches. When she was satisfied by the length, he combed oil into her hair before wrapping her head in a towel that he'd let warm on the hearth. He smoothed balm onto her chapped lips and worked more oil into her skin and cuticles before he took a file and a tiny pair of scissors to shape her nails as best he could, though he had to cut all of them down nearly to the quick.

Lastly, he applied the kaddis Merrill made once Hawke affirmed she didn't have any negative reaction to the paste. A sweep of his finger over the bridge of her nose felt incongruously good and made Hawke feel a little more like herself.

"Maybe now you won't be embarrassed to be seen with me in public," Hawke joked as she examined her reflection in the shaving mirror he'd handed her to inspect his work. She was still pale and far too thin, but at least tiny children wouldn't run screaming at the sight of her.

"I could never. You are breathtaking," Varric said without shame as he took the mirror back and helped her to her feet.

Hawke thanked the Maker the kaddis hid her blush and delivered a light punch to Varric's chest just to make him go oof once she was standing again. "Careful, dwarf, or I really will take your breath away."

"Can't be any worse than the time you sat on my face."

"That was all your idea. You wanted to 'don the beard' if I recall. It's a shame you shaved. I bet an actual beard would feel really interesting down there."

"Nuh uh, Hawke. You complained the last time I gave you beard burn. I'll be clean-shaven from now on," Varric argued, sporting several days' worth of stubble even as he said it.

"We'll see about that…" Hawke said as she strapped on her belt and sheaths, forgoing her armor that she never did get around to cleaning. She may as well burn them with the rest of her clothing. The dragon and darkspawn blood and whatever else had been caked on there had very likely ruined the leather permanently.

"What do you say we head up to Hightown first? We can check in on Broody and stop at the market while we're there," Varric said, reading her mind like always.

"Sounds good to me."

Hawke refused the coat Varric tried to pawn off on her since the one she'd borrowed indefinitely was probably still at Gamlen's and he was showing far more skin than her. Varric shoved a handful of gold and silver into two purses and handed her one. It was probably more than either of them could spend in a day, but Hawke was determined to try.

Downstairs, Hawke had to brace herself for the noise and odors that would only get worse outside. It must have been past dinnertime since several of the patrons had plates picked clean of food at their elbow and appeared deep into their cups. Hawke realized her estimate of the time was wildly off when they stepped outside into the full light of day. The sun threatened to blind her and she hissed, wishing for a hood or a cowl as she slammed her eyelids shut and covered her face with her hands. She must have been part-vampire after all, but at least the sun only warmed her skin instead of turning her to dust.

"Are you okay?" Varric said, touching her arm. He was squinting as well when she glanced through her fingers at him.

"I should have grabbed one of Isabela's hats. Shit."

The low-level headache Hawke never quite lost flared anew and throbbed behind her eye as she slowly adjusted to the light. She let Varric take one of her hands when she managed to pull them away from her face even though she didn't actually need a guide. Hawke was glad for the contact and kept close once they actually starting walking north toward Hightown. She kept her head down and avoided eye contact even though she knew that kind of posture screamed 'easy target' to those looking to make a quick bit of coin. She was surprised when they actually reached Hightown unaccosted, both more than a little winded from the climb. The sky didn't fall; strangers didn't call her out on the street and challenge her to a duel. No one even gave them a second glance other than to note the daggers strapped to her hips and Bianca secure in her harness on Varric's back.

As they approached Fenris' mansion, Hawke noted the overgrown hedges, the windows caked with dust, and the general, unwelcoming aura of the place.

They walked right in.

Like Varric's room, Fenris' mansion looked entirely untouched by time - if one didn't count the thick layers of dust, cobwebs, and the corpses that had moved past the bloated, decomposing stage and were looking more and more like dried jerky clinging to bone. Hawke was relieved that her resemblance to actual skeletons was less than she'd believed. She was so focused on not walking through someone's skull that she tripped over a pair of boots lying in the doorway.

"What in the name of Andraste's saggy tits—!" Hawke exclaimed and then said, "Huh," when she remembered Fenris didn't even own shoes.

She inspected the boots more closely. They were oddly familiar and tall enough to reach Hawke's knee, if not higher. Her suspicions were only confirmed as they found black armor mixed with white and blue cloth scattered across the floor as if they'd been hastily removed.

Hawke and Varric crept into the grand hall where evidence of their battle against shades and demons still remained. They lingered at the base of the stairs leading up to the master bedroom and Hawke pressed a finger to her lips as she strained to hear. Seconds later, she was rewarded with a very loud thump and a murmur of voices from upstairs that belonged, unmistakably, to Fenris and Isabela. She clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter, but Varric only rolled his eyes as he took her arm and dragged her away.

"Something tells me Broody's not an exhibitionist like you, Hawke," Varric muttered under his breath when she made a token protest and dug her heels in.

She nearly gave them away when Varric hefted her over his shoulder, giving her a face full of Bianca and his ass as he bodily carried her out. He didn't set her down until they were back at the entryway. He dusted off his hands and looked smug even when she socked him in the shoulder for appearance's sake.

"Aveline owes me so much," Hawke said gleefully, still in a whisper. "I almost want to bring her a souvenir as proof."

"Don't even think about it. You don't know where these have been," Varric said as he cautiously toed aside the pair of smallclothes Hawke had been eyeballing. "It's too bad we don't have itching powder," he mused, rubbing his chin in a devious manner.

"Considering the state of the floors, we probably don't need any itching powder," Hawke said. "Though, I am tempted to dress up one of these corpses. That guy over there would look particularly fetching in Isabela's bodice."

"Dressing me up in ladies' underthings isn't bad enough? Now you have to defile these poor departed souls while you're at it? Your depravity knows no bounds, Hawke," Varric said, trying and failing to sound disapproving.

"It's not like I could get a pair of knickers on an arcane horror before it clawed my face off. I guess you'll have to do for now. What do you say? Up for some shopping?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"None at all."

Hawke tucked her hand in Varric's arm and led him out of the mansion. She felt better knowing Fenris, at least, was in good hands. Hawke had never been able to tease a smile out of Fenris or get him to flirt back the way Isabela did. They were an extremely unlikely, if not pretty, pair. Both of them were lone wolves and even if their relationship was purely physical Hawke was still glad they had each other.

They weren't too far from the market district, so the first place Hawke headed was toward the section the Feddics normally sold their wares and enchantments. She didn't care if Bartrand or any of his other hirelings had made it out of the Deep Roads, but Bodhan and Sandal were innocent parties and good people, besides. Sandal had already proven that he was able to handle whatever the Deep Roads threw his way, but Hawke still worried. Apparently, his luck had held because she spotted him and Bodhan in their usual area, both looking miraculously well.

"Messere!" Bodhan called out when Sandal said something to him and pointed in Hawke's direction.

Both of them waved enthusiastically when she and Varric approached. Hawke smiled wide enough to hurt her cheeks, matching the expressions on both Bodhan's and Sandal's faces. Hawke jogged up to them but stopped just short of throwing her arms around them and never letting go.

Sandal held out his hand to her with a very familiar stone and said, "Boom!"

"Boom," Hawke agreed, pocketing the stone and pulling them into a hug anyway.

"Oh, it is good to see you again, Messere! I haven't forgotten what you did for me and my boy down there in the Deep Roads. I will repay you one of these days, you have my word!" Bodhan said fervently.

"Hold onto that thought, Bodhan. I plan on getting back my mother's estate and could probably use some help around the place, if you're up to the task?"

"It would be my honor to serve you, Messere. Sandal, too."

"Enchantment?" Sandal asked with his usual eagerness.

"Enchantment," Hawke agreed, handing over her new daggers from Isabela.

"Enchantment!" Sandal exclaimed rapturously as he immediately got to work. Hawke watched him with a fond expression before she turned back to Bodhan.

"Do you wish to peruse my wares? I have the finest goods both common and rare at your disposal!" Bodhan said in his usual theatrical manner.

"Only if you promise to let me pay you this time," Hawke said.

Bodhan made a token protest, but in the end he accepted three sovereigns for the enchantments plus as many healing potions, grenades, and bolts for Bianca that he had in stock, which Hawke still considered a steal. She struggled over the decision to buy a new boot knife, but she'd been disarmed too many times in the past not to have a backup plan. Bodhan also loaned her a pair of serviceable daggers to use until her own were done being enchanted.

Hawke was more than serious about hiring both Sandal and Bodhan once she acquired the Amell estate. If it was anywhere as large as Fenris' mansion she'd need as much help as she could get repairing whatever the slavers and years of negligence had done to the place and maintaining the grounds. It would also be nice to have people other than her, Leandra, Bethany, and Snowflake rattling around the place. Gamlen could just stay in his hovel, however. She couldn't wait to be rid of her deplorable uncle sooner rather than later.

"We have a bit more shopping to do, but I'll swing by later to pick up the daggers. It was good to see you both again," Hawke said.

"You, too, Messere. Take care!"

"Where to next?" Varric asked as he filled his quiver with bolts. Bianca's enchantments had held so there was no need for upgrades on her yet.

"I'm in desperate need of new armor," Hawke said and then shot him a sly look. "Unless you were planning to run off and buy more knickers?"

Varric went red and Hawke positively cackled with delight as she teased him and poked his hot cheeks until he grabbed her hand and held it between them.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed as he dragged her toward the pungent smell of Antivan leather. "I could use a new pair of gloves anyway."

It was almost like their shopping trip right before they went into the Deep Roads, but Hawke tried not to think about that. She didn't spend a fortune on armor since she only needed something to get by until she filled out to her usual weight. She decided on a shirt of chainmail that reached mid-thigh and split on either side for easy maneuverability and a leather cuirass that buckled across her chest. She also bought a pair of gauntlets and spiked shoulder armor that reminded her a little of Fenris' preferred outfit. She found a harness so she could strap her daggers to her back and boots that pinched her toes a bit, but they'd be broken in with time. Anything was better than the ones she was currently wearing, worn down nearly to the soles after two months of unending marching.

They visited a tailor next so Hawke would have clothes to change into whenever she stayed at Varric's, which seemed to be more often than not. She also bought underthings for herself - plain but serviceable, rather than the scraps of buttfloss that were all for show. Varric eyed her warily all the same but carried her purchases like the dutiful partner he was.

They were so caught up in teasing each other that Hawke stopped short when she realized the current direction they were going would lead them right past Solivitus' stall. Hawke was able to see Sol now that she was actually looking for him. Varric also came to stop, standing up on his toes and craning his neck until he finally saw what had Hawke so distracted. Hawke bit her lip and wavered over whether or not she needed to make a visit to the herbalist. She'd spent so much time trying not to think about it that she still didn't know whether or not she should get more birthbane or a potion that would remove the possibility of a potential pregnancy altogether.

"You don't have to decide right now," Varric said quietly, startling her all the same.

Hawke felt cold all over and her heart was like a jackrabbit in her chest. She wished so badly that Anders had been able to give her a definitive yes or no. How did other women stand not knowing? The benefit of having sex with other women was that she never had to worry about getting knocked up…not like she had to with a male partner. Magic ran in her family and the last thing she wanted was to be saddled with a mage baby in Kirkwall, the epicenter of all things anti-mage.

She knew all of this waiting and worrying could be for nothing, but it wasn't like contracting a disease from the Blooming Rose that one could cure with the right concoction of pills and potions. Or, rather, it could be "cured" in a way, but the idea that a child...that her and Varric's child should be denied the right to live because she was too afraid to deal with the consequences of her own actions was inconceivable. She had money now, and friends and family and a partner to help her through this latest transition. So many women didn't even have a fraction of that support and raised their children just fine. Her mother had managed somehow after Malcolm had died.

Hawke was at that age where she should be settling down with a husband and popping out babies for Leandra to dote upon. It wasn't like Hawke didn't want children… eventually, and on her own terms. Family meant everything to her, but she always figured she'd have more time. Hawke was already being changed by this, forcing herself to eat even when she wasn't hungry, drinking not nearly as much as she desperately wanted to, and spending more time in Varric's company without being consumed by sex...

Okay, so perhaps having a kid wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen to her, but still.

Her life, their lives, would change forever. The responsibility alone... She saw what her mother and father had gone through keeping a roof over her and her siblings' heads and food in their bellies, all the while looking over their shoulders. They lived with the constant fear that templars would come and tear their family apart. What sort of person would Hawke be to knowingly bring a child with the potential for magic into the world? She could end the waiting and wondering once and for all. Maybe they would try again a few years from now when everything was a little more secure, when the Qunari weren't threatening war and the Circles weren't becoming increasingly hostile toward mages.

Solivitus caught her eye and lifted his hand in an undeniable beckoning motion before Hawke could commit to her decision to walk away. She felt like she had swallowed a particularly thorny rock. She plastered a smile onto her face, nonetheless, and walked stiffly toward Sol's stall with Varric following close enough to brush against her arm.

"Serah Hawke! And Master Tethras! What a pleasure it is to see you again. Your sister was kind enough to retrieve the ironbark I requested, though I heard those darkspawn gave her no small amount of trouble. Now, what can I do for you both today?"

"Darkspawn?" Hawke yelped. All thoughts of babies fled as she fisted the front of Sol's robes and dragged him forward as wild fear shot through her. "There were darkspawn? Here?"

"S-Serah, please!" Sol wheezed, turning purple as he attempted to pry Hawke's hands away. Hawke gave him a hard shake when his gaze darted to Varric, imploring the saner of the pair for help.

"You'd better answer the lady, Sol. This is her baby sister we're talking about," Varric shrugged, inspecting his new gloves without any hint of concern.

Hawke felt fiercely vindicated by his support. "Start talking. I won't ask again." She let Sol go and crossed her arms over her chest.

He coughed and smoothed down the front of his robes, looking more sheepish than offended.

"There's no need for manhandling, I assure you! I don't know much only that she mentioned the Dalish had banned their hunters from the clearing where ironbark is found because of an influx of darkspawn in that area. Thankfully, she was able to wipe out the nest and return without injury. I swear, my friend. If I'd known what she'd face acquiring ironbark for me I would have never asked."

"And you're sure Bethany was okay? And Aveline? Merrill?"

Isabela, she knew, was just fine, and currently confirming that Fenris had escaped the darkspawn relatively unharmed as well. Andraste's flaming knickers. After everything she'd done to keep Bethany out of the Deep Roads and her sister managed to find fucking darkspawn anyway.

"They all appeared to be fine the last I saw them, though I admit it's been a few weeks. I've seen more than a few cases of the blight. Terrible business, that. And incurable as far as I know, but fortunately neither your sister nor your friends exhibited any symptom, as I'm certain you'll be able to ascertain for yourself," he said pointedly.

If nothing else, the visit to Sol reminded Hawke that she'd been hiding behind Varric's skirts for long enough. She would find Anders, make certain he was alive and well, and then finally go face her family. Bethany would be furious if she knew Hawke had been back in Kirkwall all this time - assuming Varric hadn't told her family yet - but if either Leandra or Bethany had seen the state Hawke had been in neither of them would let her out of the house ever again.

"I hate to ask what after what your sister encountered, but if you should find yourself on the Wounded Coast or Sundermount, I am in desperate need of these few ingredients if you happen to come across them," Sol said, handing her a scrap of parchment. "I will pay you handsomely for each ingredient in addition to giving you a discount on any new potions I create."

"As long as we don't run into anymore darkspawn this shouldn't be a problem," Hawke said as she scanned the short list.

Three items weren't unreasonable, but she had no idea what a varterral was or why Sol needed its heart, exactly. A Harlot's Blush flower and Dalish tattoo ink would probably be easier to come by - if she felt so inclined. Hawke hadn't had the freedom to be picky about jobs before, but it was nice to know she wouldn't have to schlep around the Wounded Coast or Sundermount unless she wanted to.

"Forgive my presumption, Serah, but I must say you appear rather unwell," Sol said, fingertips resting against the reddening splotch of skin at his throat as he observed her with a trained eye.

Hawke was suddenly reminded why she was there in the first place and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to sting.

"…Both of you, actually," Sol said before she could convince herself that he could somehow sense or sniff out certain…conditions. "I can't imagine you managed a well-balanced diet where you went – oh, don't give me that look. It's no secret the elder Master Tethras took an expedition into the Deep Roads. I do wish you would have told me sooner as I would have sent you away with a few of these."

Sol handed them both vials containing a thick, viscous substance the color of sludge that didn't smell much better.

"What is this stuff?" Varric asked with a dubious look at his vial.

"A mixture of essential vitamins and nutrients in concentrated form. Completely harmless, I swear, though I can't say much for the taste."

The potion couldn't be any worse than nug or deep mushrooms, Hawke figured.

"Bottoms up," Varric said, clinking his vial against Hawke's before downing the contents in one go. He shuddered and scrunched up his face. "Shit. That'll put hair on your chest," he coughed before giving Hawke a watery smirk. "Your turn, Hawke."

"As sexy as your chest hair is, I think only one of us can pull that look off and it isn't me," Hawke said. Still, rather than be shown up by him, she raised the vial to her lips and slammed the potion back in a single, noxious swallow.

"Ugh," she said with feeling. "This tastes like something that died in a hurlock's asshole."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid my attempts to make the potion more palatable have been largely unsuccessful," Solivitus said regretfully as he took their empty vials and their coin. "Was there anything else I could assist either of you with today?"

"No. Definitely not," Hawke said. "Thanks, Sol. I think."

"Very well. Have a pleasant day, Serah, and please do give your sister my regards."

Hawke wondered if they'd get a refund if they threw the potion up. It was already taking everything she had not to scrape the taste buds off her tongue with one of her daggers. Luckily, Hawke had a waterskin on her, as did Varric, along with a pouch of dried fruit and jerky - not that any of it did more than mask the taste.

"I almost prefer Corff's specials. I think I need something stronger to get this taste out of my mouth," Hawke said.

"I'm pretty sure I smelled those pastries you like earlier," Varric suggested.

"How can you smell anything? I think I inhaled some of Sol's potion up my nose."

Hawke stuck her tongue out of her mouth like she could air it out or something. Regardless, she didn't argue when Varric took her to the little café that boasted "authentic" Orlesian drinks and high-end confectionaries and finger foods. The items were certainly priced that way, at any rate.

The dirty look the owner shot them when they entered the café was normally scathing enough to have Hawke avoiding the shop altogether, despite her love of the man's pastries. Varric had much thicker skin than her and approached the counter without appearing to notice that he was being regarded like something the owner had found on the bottom of his shoe.

"Could I get a half-dozen bichons au cannelle and a spiced wine?" Varric said with a grin and a flash of silver before the owner could scoff at his pronunciation. Hawke normally just said "those cinnamon things" and pointed. She couldn't even describe the look the owner gave her then but, frankly, she was surprised that she still had eyebrows.

Hawke didn't even make it out of the door before stuffing the first bitchin's, or whatever they were called, in her mouth. The first bite was heaven. Light, flaky crust crunched delightfully beneath her teeth while warm, buttery filling oozed into her mouth, coating her tongue with cinnamon and honey and all but neutralizing the lingering taste of Sol's potion. Hawke was fairly certain she could live off of these things for the rest of her life. Maker help her if the owner ever deigned to make a chocolate-filled version. Varric really would have to cart her around in a wheelbarrow when she was too big to move.

Hawke hoarded her treats jealously while Varric sipped on his wine. She was determined that no one would take them from her or make her give them away this time. Even Varric didn't try to filch one – relieved, probably, just to see her eat without having to be prodded first. Hawke finished off all six of the pastries and was glad Varric hadn't ordered a full dozen. She was already feeling a little queasy from all the sugar.

They dropped off their purchases in Varric's room for safekeeping before finally going to see Anders. Lowering herself down into the deep, dark pit of Darktown on a rickety old lift nearly threatened to unhinge Hawke. She had to resist the urge to cower in a fetal position with her arms thrown over her head. She'd never been afraid of the dark before and often found refuge in shadows, but now that she knew what kind of horrors lurked in true darkness it felt like every inch of her body was primed to flee. Rather than let that fear take root she bit her lip, grabbed a heavy link of chain in both hands while Varric worked the crank, and said nothing as they descended.

"Hawke!" Anders said, his face lighting with surprise and pleasure when she walked into his clinic with Varric following behind her. The joy lasted only an instant before an invisible shutter drew over him. He cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to busy himself tidying up bundles of bandages and potion supplies.

"I appreciate the visit, but I've been neglecting my patients. Did you need something?"

Anders' tone was curt, practically unfriendly compared to his earlier greeting. If Hawke didn't already know he was possessed, she would have expected him of being possessed.

"I just wanted to see you," Hawke said, stung. "But if I'm bothering you..."

"Don't go!" Anders said loudly, startling her.

"O...kay?" Hawke said uncertainly. She wondered if she shouldn't back away toward the door slowly.

Anders didn't look very good. He was haggard and wan like his appetite wasn't any better than hers. Maybe she should have saved some of those pastries after all. He didn't look like he had slept much. Hawke wondered if he was avoiding the nightmares that sometimes jolted her and Varric awake in a cold sweat or if he'd been working himself to death trying to see to the backlog of patients that Hawke had seen loitering near the clinic. His coat with the terrible feathered pauldron was still as she remembered, though he had at least replaced his robes.

"Maker's breath. I'm sorry, Hawke. You caught me at a bad time, but that's no reason to take it out on you."

"Is everything okay? Anything I can help with?"

"Actually, there might be," Anders said. "Have you noticed how many Tranquil are in the Gallows courtyard lately? I've been watching and every day there are new Tranquil, selling their bloody wares. Good mages, too. People I know passed their Harrowing."

Hawke hadn't noticed, but then again she hadn't exactly been on the lookout for people with a sunburst branded into their forehead. "Doesn't Chantry law say that mages who pass their Harrowing can't be made Tranquil?"

"Exactly. The templars are using the Rite of Tranquility to silence those who speak against them. They're working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall within the next three years."

"Whatever you think of templars, you can't imagine they're so heartless," Hawke said. She felt ill at the idea of Anders, Merrill, or Bethany being made Tranquil just for having the bad luck of being a mage in Kirkwall. Surely, Anders was exaggerating. Even Varric was jumping at shadows after what they'd been through.

"They're worse. There are groups in Kirkwall who help those fleeing the Circle. I've talked to people on the inside," Anders said.

"You've been busy, Blondie," Varric said. "It's only been six days since we got back."

Hawke wasn't certain whether he approved of Anders' extracurricular activities or not, but anything had to be better than hiding in the dark crying for a week. Anders had dived right back into his work while Hawke had simply rolled over and played dead.

"I can't sit by idly while so many are suffering under the cruel reign of templars," Anders said. Hawke could practically see the pedestal rising up from right beneath him. "The plan is the work of a templar named Ser Alrik. I've had a run in with him myself. He's the one who did the ritual on Karl. Nasty piece of work, likes to make mages beg."

"What happened between you and Ser Alrik?" Hawke asked.

"I've been involved with an...underground resistance. Mages, living free in Kirkwall, who help others escape. I can't tell you any more, for your sake and theirs. Suffice it to say, I've been in the Gallows. I've seen his work firsthand."

It sounded to Hawke that Anders' plan to help free mages had been in progress long before he'd ever returned with treasure from the Deep Roads. She didn't know if the funds helped further his cause or made things more dangerous for him working actively against the templars.

"What else do you know about Ser Alrik?" Hawke said, feeling herself sink into investigation mode.

"The Knight-Commander is at least sincere in her convictions. However misguided, she believes she's helping people. Ser Alrik's a sadist. Cold-blooded as a lizard. He likes to experiment on mages, find out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons."

"Don't templars have anything better to do than come up with new ways to torment mages?"

"No."

Anders glanced around at the people lingering in his clinic or near the doorway. He stepped in closer to Hawke and lowered his voice. Hawke ignored the way her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.

"My friends in the mage underground know a way inside. A secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows. Come with me, tonight, please. Help me find the evidence of Ser Alrik's 'Tranquil Solution'."

"Hawke's in no condition to get ambushed by a bunch of templars for you again, Blondie," Varric said. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted from foot to foot as if he'd like nothing more than to grab Hawke and bolt out of there as fast as they could.

"I'm fine," Hawke said, waving off his concern. "What do you mean 'Tranquil Solution'?"

"That's what he calls it. His idea of a 'peaceful' solution to the mage problem - to sunder the mind of every mage in the Free Marches! I'm told he's bringing his proposal to Val Royeaux, to the Divine herself. He would turn every mage in Thedas into a drooling simpleton under his command!"

"If this is real then it must be exposed," Hawke said with conviction. She could feel Varric practically radiating tension at her side, but Anders' whole demeanor softened and he looked relieved.

"I am honored by your trust. I'm ready to go when you are. Our entrance is concealed not far from here."

"I'm ready," Hawke said before Varric could convince her that this was a terrible idea. Of course it was a terrible idea. When were any of Hawke's ideas ever good ones?

"Do not tell anyone about this way into the Gallows," Anders said as she and Varric followed him down several passageways and rickety sets of stairs. "It's a secret that has saved the lives of hundreds of mages."

"You can trust me," Hawke said, a little hurt that she even had to say it.

Anders led them over to what at first glance appeared to be a wood and metal crate near a cluster of refugee tents. When they walked around the crate it revealed a trap door that led down into a deep, dark tunnel.

"This is it. This tunnel will take us into the Gallows."

"With any luck, we won't all fall down there and break our legs," Varric said, eyeing the drop dubiously.

Hawke couldn't even see the bottom. Her guts clenched at the idea of going down there. Anders didn't pay any mind to the people loitering nearby so Hawke ignored them as well, trying not to appear suspicious and terrified out of her mind. This new terror of dark, confined spaces was incredibly irritating but she couldn't let that fear get in the way of doing her job. Someone like Hawke who thrived on being useful, being needed, would never recover wasting away in bed while Varric played nursemaid and doted on her hand and foot. He had done his best, and Hawke appreciated his efforts, but she needed to stand on her own again.

"Let's go," Hawke said, determined not to prove Varric right about her not being ready yet.

"Ladies first," Varric insisted in a clear challenge.

"I'm not the one wearing a dress," Hawke said, meeting Varric head-on in this game of chicken they'd apparently started.

"How many times do I have to tell both of you these are robes?" Anders sighed.

"Have you started wearing smallclothes yet, Blondie?" Varric asked.

"No."

"Then you're definitely going first. No way am I going to risk looking up and being either blinded by your pasty white ass or scarred for life."

"Fine. I'm going. Follow or not," Anders said.

"Oh, I'm going," Hawke said, shouldering Varric out of the way and stepping down onto the first rung of the ladder. "I'm not going to miss this view for the world."

She'd already gone down too far to see Anders' reaction, but she had to keep from rolling her eyes and disorienting herself when she heard the clatter of Varric's boots following her down next.

"You had better not break wind, dwarf," Hawke warned.

Varric's laughter was muffled by the enclosed space but plenty audible to her.

---

Being down in the dark fighting for her life again convinced Hawke more and more that the brief window of freedom she'd experienced after finally escaping the Deep Roads had only been an elaborate fantasy. A heartbreaking dream. Even if they were navigating through tunnels and mineshafts instead of dwarven ruins, the rock walls and caverns were similar enough that she kept having flashbacks of being trapped down below.

Ironically, with Anders and Varric fighting at her side, Hawke was in her element. Carta and smugglers and mercenaries - people - were laughably easy and squishy targets compared to the stone monsters in the Deep Roads even if she only had plain, boring daggers currently at her disposal. They all bled the same; however, when spiders bigger than horses dropped down from overhead Hawke was more than happy to retreat and let Anders and Varric set them on fire.

She may or may not have shrieked first.

"Spiders," Hawke said with feeling once the last ones were on their backs twitching long, spindly appendages and smouldering.

"Lyrium smugglers built these tunnels to service the templars who crave the stuff," Anders said with clear disdain as he nudged the body of a smuggler over onto his back as well. Thankfully, that one didn't twitch.

"It looks like they could stand to clean house," Hawke said.

She was fairly certain she had webs in her hair and it was all she could do not to swat at her own face every few seconds. Varric was fortunate to be short enough to avoid walking face-first into spider webs, unlike her and Anders. There were also corpses older than the ones at Fenris' mansion lying about. Even though none of them had any need to loot bodies for pocket change, old habits died hard. Hawke found herself walking around with pouches full of coppers and a random assortment of junk that included a cracked tiger's eye stone and a pair of trousers that would fit a dwarf with worse fashion sense than Varric.

"Boiling in oil," Anders said suddenly like he was having an epiphany.

Hawke wondered if he was thinking of actually cooking and eating the spiders he'd roasted and looked at him askance.

"Too prosaic. Trapped in a cave with hungry bears, right at the spring thaw," Varric said, effortlessly following Anders' line of thought while Hawke was still wondering if Anders had picked up a new passenger in that head of his.

"That lets him off too easy. Dipped in molten gold and left as a statue in the Viscount's Keep," Anders countered.

"Ooh. That's poetic!"

"What are you two talking about?" Hawke cut in, unable to take the mystery any longer.

"What to do to Bartrand when I find him," Varric said.

"Any suggestions?" Anders asked.

Hawke's lips spread into a dark grin. "Do I ever."

Unfortunately, those suggestions would have to wait as they approached an area where voices could be clearly heard.

"No…please! I haven't done anything wrong," Hawke heard a young woman say. When she went to investigate, she saw a girl around Bethany's age dressed in Circle robes backed into a corner by several templars. The templar closest to the girl, tall and bald and armed to the teeth, spoke in slow, slimy tones.

"That's a lie. What do we do with mages who lie?"

"I just wanted to see my mum. No one ever told her where they were taking me."

Hawke felt a faint tremor swell up from the ground beneath her, but as soon as it started the shaking ceased. The templars and the girl didn't seem to notice, though Anders turned his head away and muttered something to himself.

"So, you admit your attempted escape? You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?" the templar, who was very likely this Alrik that had Anders so worked up, said as he stepped closer.

The girl fell to her knees with a faint cry and implored him, "Please, no! Don't make me Tranquil! I'll do anything!"

"That's right. Once you're Tranquil, you'll do everything I ask."

"The Chantry frowns on templars who take personal advantage of their charges," Hawke interrupted, feeling icky all over at Alrik's lewd implications.

"Who's this?" Alrik demanded, turning to face the intruders.

"It's the Divine. Come all the way from Orlais to tell you personally what a jackass you are," Varric said sarcastically.

"YOU FIENDS WILL NEVER TOUCH A MAGE AGAIN!" Anders...Justice growled without warning, lighting up as he swung his staff in preparation for a spell.

"Ah, shit. You've done it now," Varric said. He gave Anders a healthy amount of space and unholstered Bianca from his back.

Alrik roared and ripped his sword free, raising it in a signal to charge. Hawke kicked at the knee of the templar closest to her, though his skirts prevented her from getting a clear shot and she had to jump back to avoid getting slammed by his shield. She swore when Anders' fireballs rained down from above without any regard for catching his allies in the storm. She was glad to see the mage girl had enough sense to get out of the way and Hawke waited for a lull before darting back into the fight. Alrik stayed far back, more than happy to let his minions do the bulk of the work for him. Varric, she was pleased to note, didn't let that stop him from using Alrik's shiny dome as target practice.

Hawke almost thought the battle was going to be too easy when the two templars that had been in Alrik's company went down beneath a hail of bolts, spells, and fancy knife work. She should have known better when she heard the clatter of metal boots and armor as reinforcements poured into the area and took up arms against Hawke and her companions.

"Shit," she said through clenched teeth as she tried to find an opening.

There wasn't much room to maneuver or use the boom rock without catching herself or one of the others in the blast. Most of the templars favored either swords or ranged bows that closed the gap between them even further. All of the templars were dressed in full helms and upper body armor that made a clean shot next to impossible. Their long skirts obscured their legs so it wasn't as easy to hamstring them, but at least they didn't move very fast either.

Hawke waited for an opportunity to dart in and numb wrists with blows from the hilt of her blade, stab thighs and gaps in the armor, as well as aim for unsportsmanlike crotch shots with her foot. Fortunately for her, most of these templars seemed to be male. She refused to stop moving and make herself an easy target, focusing on the archers on the ledges above while Anders and Varric dealt with Alrik and the templars on the ground.

The templars didn't stand a chance.

"THEY WILL DIE! I WILL HAVE EVERY LAST TEMPLAR FOR THESE ABUSES!" Anders roared when all of the templars, including Alrik, were finally dead after an arduous and bloody battle. Anders' face was covered in blood but that didn't hide the unearthly glow in his eyes or seeping through cracks in his skin.

"The templars are gone. You can stop glowing," Hawke said, approaching him cautiously.

She wasn't expecting him to turn toward the girl cowering on the ground and snarl, "EVERY ONE OF THEM WILL FEEL JUSTICE'S BURN."

"Get away from me, demon!" the girl cried.

"I AM NO DEMON!" Anders said, sounding incredibly demonic. "ARE YOU ONE OF THEM, THAT YOU WOULD CALL ME SUCH?"

"Anders! That girl is a mage. We rescued her from being made Tranquil," Hawke said, more than a little concerned that Anders, or Justice, might do something that he would regret.

"SHE IS THEIRS! I CAN FEEL THEIR HOLD ON HER."

"She's the reason you're fighting, Anders. Don't turn on her now."

"Please, Messere…" the girl implored him, begging for her life the same way she'd begged Alrik not to make her Tranquil.

Anders seemed to be untouched by reason. Hawke was too far away to stop him when he prepared to strike. Just when she thought he would unleash his attack, Anders erupted in an explosion of energy and staggered back. For a moment, Hawke thought the girl had cast a spell of her own but she only smelled ozone rather than charred flesh. She was intimately familiar with both smells.

"Maker, no," Anders said. Anders, not Justice. He fell to his knees as the last of Justice's light left his eyes. The girl up and ran like her life depended on it, which it nearly had. "I almost… If you weren't here…"

Anders staggered to his feet with a look on his face like a cornered animal. "I-I need to get out of here."

He ran in the opposite direction the girl had gone like his robes had caught fire. Varric caught Hawke's arm and shook his head before she could go after him.

"Give him some space, sweetheart. The last thing either of us wants is to get between him and his warped sense of Justice right now."

"We can't just leave him like that," Hawke protested, but even she could admit this was beyond her scope of expertise. She was only glad Fenris hadn't been there to see Anders lose control over his spirit like that. They'd only just begun to tolerate each other. Sort of.

Looting the templars' corpses turned up a missive from Alrik himself addressed to Divine Justinia. It stated that even though the Divine and Meredith herself had rejected his proposal to make all mages Tranquil, he implored Justinia to reconsider his solution as the best way to ensure mages obeyed the laws of men and the Maker.

Make them more pliant to the abuses templars like Alrik would subject them to, was what he'd really meant.

"That sick fuck," Varric said when Hawke handed him the letter. He gave it back after skimming the contents and shook his head. "So Blondie wasn't crazy after all. Or, well. Crazy for believing in a conspiracy against mages."

"There is that at least. Come on. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the heebies," Hawke said.

"Lead the way."

The girl they had saved from Alrik and Justice found her and Varric as they were walking back. She looked relatively unharmed, if not rattled.

"You, you saved my life, Messere. What was that thing?"

"He's no demon. Just a deeply troubled man," Hawke said, trying not to emphasize the 'deeply' part too much. She was no basket of kittens herself.

"Can I…go home now?"

"Find your parents, but don't stay there. You must leave Kirkwall."

"I know. There's nowhere in the city where Ser Alrik's men won't find me. Thank you, Messere. Andraste herself must have put you in that room."

"Maybe I should stop pissing Andraste off then," Hawke muttered quietly enough that only Varric could hear. He huffed out a laugh and they both watched the girl go before finding their way back up to Darktown.

"What do you think? Did we give Anders enough of a head start?" Hawke asked once she and Varric had climbed back up the ladder and were on solid ground again. "I really don't want to just leave him like that."

"Your call, Hawke," Varric said unhelpfully.

Hawke's call was to stop by the clinic to check on Anders and make sure he hadn't landed himself in more trouble meanwhile. She half-expected him not to be there. There was no one waiting outside the clinic and the lanterns had been extinguished, but she found him at his work table muttering angrily to himself as he sorted supplies and junk into separate piles. Hawke and her family had been on the run enough times that she knew exactly what a hasty getaway looked like.

"Trash. Trash. Keep. Trash. Trash… Won't be needing that anymore…"

"Anders…" Hawke said, considering and discarding potential conversation openers just like he was with his inventory. "Don't make any hasty decisions while you're this upset. I'm here if you want to talk about it."

Anders let bits of dried leaves tumble through his fingers and turned toward her with an anguished, defeated expression. "You were the only thing that kept me from murdering an innocent girl! It's all gone wrong. Justice and I. We're just a monster, same as any abomination."

"You were out of control, but even then you heard what I was saying. You knew, somewhere deep inside, that you had to stop."

"You have too much faith in me. Without you, I'd never have known who was there until it was too late. How can I fight for the freedom of mages, when I am the example of the worst that freedom brings?"

"Mages are dangerous," Hawke said, not bothering to sugarcoat the matter. "That's why this has been so hard. Make yourself the proof that they can control their powers."

"I don't know how. How can I even trust myself to heal anymore? What if that…creature of vengeance turns on a patient? Will he…will I…resist? Or will I know his fury?"

"Maybe the Chantry can mediate this."

Hawke hated to even suggest it, but she was at a loss. If the Chantry knew Anders was losing his control over a spirit possessing him, they wouldn't hesitate to turn him over to their templars. A tiny, traitorous part of Hawke wondered if that might not be for the best.

"Did you…find anything on Ser Alrik? Or was the 'Tranquil Solution' just another of my delusions?" Anders asked, thankfully derailing her current train of thought.

"It exists, but it was Ser Alrik's plan, no one else's."

"Let me see that!" Anders said as he reached for the missive Hawke pulled from her pocket and read over the letter avidly. "The Divine…rejected the idea. Meredith rejected the idea! This was…not what I expected. Perhaps I should try talking to the grand cleric. Maybe she's more reasonable than I thought. Thank you. I will think on what you said."

Hawke wasn't ready to leave Anders quite yet even though she'd clearly used up her usefulness to him and his mind was already elsewhere. He'd worried her with his loss of control, but he managed to pull himself out of the hold Justice… Vengeance?... had on him and come back to himself. He'd come back because of her.

"You know… You're not the only one who's been losing their mind lately," Hawke said, staring down at the toe of her boot as it dug into the packed dirt floor of Anders' clinic. She glanced up and flashed him a wry grin. "Us crazies have to stick together."

"I highly doubt you've lost control of a spirit and nearly killed an innocent girl, Hawke," Anders said.

"Oh, cheer up, Blondie. You're making me cry just looking at you," Varric said. "You've both made mistakes. It happens. No one's perfect… Except for me, of course."

"Keep telling yourself that, dwarf," Hawke scoffed, but she was heartened by the shadow of a smile that crossed Anders' face for a brief moment. She felt her nerves start to kick in, but before she could back out or second-guess herself, she blurted, "Come home with us."

"What?" Anders said. "Hawke, I—"

"It doesn't…I won't… I mean. At least for dinner?" Hawke said, flushing as she tripped over her tongue. "Please?"

"Thank you for the invitation, but I really have to see to my patients," Anders said stiffly.

Hawke could sense she was losing him by the way he retreated into himself and took an actual step back. She didn't want to pressure Anders into anything, but she couldn't help hoping… On second thought, maybe she had read this entire thing wrong after all. She was about to make her own mortified retreat, but Varric's hand on her back kept her in place.

"There's no one around right now," Varric said, gesturing to the empty clinic. "You won't be doing anyone any favors if you collapse from hunger. Besides, I think we're having lamb tonight," he wheedled with an effortless grin that few people could resist. Hawke certainly couldn't.

The clinic was unusually devoid of patients or refugees, but that probably had more to do with Anders' foreboding demeanor than a lack of people who were plagued with injury or illness. Anders had obviously been working himself to the bone ever since they returned to Kirkwall, and there wasn't any spare flesh on him to begin with. Hawke held out her hand in a silent plea and felt her heart stutter-stop when Anders slid his hand into hers. He gave a slight nod, lips quirking upward as Hawke released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"I'm starving!" Hawke exclaimed as she took Varric's hand in her other one and all but dragged them out of the clinic before either of them could change their minds. She was actually hungry despite the fact all three of them had been crawling around in the dank spaces beneath Darktown and didn't smell the least bit appetizing.

It was a good thing Hawke was pretty much over her cannibalistic streak. Probably.

---

Hawke didn't know how Norah or Edwina could have predicted when they'd be getting back unless Varric was telegraphing messages to them through a series of runners and secret codes, but dinner was already waiting for them upstairs. Hawke wasn't ready to mingle amongst the regulars quite yet but Varric's room felt warmer and more open with one extra person. Perhaps Varric should have allowed visitors after all, but from what she'd gathered both Fenris and Anders had been preoccupied with their own business.

Varric was in his element. He was happy to entertain as he filled their goblets and plates, telling stories they hadn't heard before in his attempts to keep their spirits up in the Deep Roads.

Anders barely waited for everyone to be served before he dug into his food, shoveling fried lamb chops, mashed tubers, rice pilaf, and asparagus drowning in butter into his mouth. Even Varric stopped talking long enough to eat. Hawke didn't eat with nearly as much gusto but she made a sizeable dent in her own ogre-sized portions. She even had to loosen a notch on her belt to make room for dessert. There was a butter rum cake drowning in sweet cream with caramelized sugar drizzled on top that they had to eat with spoons.

They would all gain back their previous weight and then some in no time eating like this every night. It was odd how food hadn't seemed nearly as appetizing to Hawke until she was covered in guts and spider ichor. She sat back with a cup of hot wine after she polished off two slices of cake and watched Varric and Anders try to out-eat each other like a food version of a drinking contest. She could already tell Varric was going to lose, and badly, since Anders was on his third serving and showed no signs of slowing down. Wardens were notorious for their appetites, after all.

For food and for other things, if rumor was to be believed.

Hawke found that she kept touching Anders in small ways like he'd disappear into a puff of smoke if something wasn't anchoring him down at all times. A brush of her knuckles against the back of his hand, bumping his shoulder with her own, resting her knee against his beneath the table, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear…

Anders dropped his fork and caught her hand before she could complete that last action. He seemed startled when he realized the appendage in his possession was attached to Hawke.

"Um," he said and dropped her hand very quickly.

He didn't start eating again and looked everywhere except at her. Hawke couldn't recall if he'd ever been in Varric's room before, but she saw him taking in his surroundings with keen interest. Varric had heavy stone furniture that sat low to the ground and he'd decorated his room with an overall color scheme of deep reds and gold - from his luxurious bedding to the tapestries hanging on the wall to the thick rug on the floor.

Anders' eyes skipped over the large bed with its rumpled sheets and fixed somewhere behind her. Hawke twisted around to look over her shoulder and saw that the bathtub had caught his attention. She made a show of sniffing her arm before pulling a face.

"Yikes. I think we could all use a bath. You're more than welcome to borrow ours if you'd like to clean up? Er. That is, if you don't mind waiting until we order some hot water to be brought up?"

Shit. She'd forgotten the tub had been drained and scrubbed after their last bath. She assumed Varric wouldn't mind her whoring out his amenities to vagrant apostates and scratched the side of her nose as she gave Anders a sheepish smile. By all accounts, she expected him to refuse. He'd been unusually reticent ever since Hawke and Varric had shown up unannounced in his clinic. Hawke was more and more convinced that anything that he might have felt toward her had all been in her head, but he surprised her when he nodded.

"You know. I think I might. That is… If you don't mind?" Anders, at least, had the courtesy to actually ask Varric first, unlike Hawke.

"Knock yourself out. I have some paperwork that I want to get wrapped up anyway. Try not to pass out and drown on me, would you? I don't think Corff's insured for that."

"I'll keep a look out," Hawke volunteered. Perhaps too readily because Varric and Anders both gave her a look.

"I can manage to scrub my own back, Hawke," Anders said just short of rolling his eyes as they got up at the same time.

They found themselves suddenly standing nose to nose until Anders took a hasty step back, incidentally placing his chair between them. He seemed jumpy and uncomfortable and Hawke couldn't help thinking she was the reason. She didn't know if that was a product of what had happened with Alrik and the mage girl, or the lingering remains of what they'd been through in the Deep Roads. Darktown had to be a constant reminder of the claustrophobic passages and caverns that had nearly become their tomb. She was trying to be understanding, but this reunion wasn't going at all like she'd hoped for. She hadn't expected them to run crying into each other's arms at first sight, but he was acting like she was diseased or about to throw herself at him and start humping his leg, for fuck's sake.

"I'm going to help Norah bring some bathwater up," Hawke said tightly. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away, trying and failing to hide her hurt.

"Wait," Anders said. His fingers brushed her arm and Hawke felt a flare of hope before he continued, "There's no need. I can summon my own water."

"You're shitting me," Hawke said, arms falling to her sides. "Why the fuck didn't you do that in the Deep Roads then?"

"Believe me, I tried. I could only form dry ice in my attacks. There has to be moisture for me to actually summon out of the air and the Deep Roads are pretty much as arid as it gets without being in a desert climate. I don't know how to sense groundwater, which I assume the dwarves must have used to live down there centuries ago - if it didn't all dry up. I'm sorry, Hawke."

"No… I'm sorry. I know you did everything you could down there," Hawke said and immediately changed the subject before she could look even more like an asshole. "You coming to see this new trick of his?" she said to Varric.

"I go anywhere near the bathtub right now it's a toss up on whether I try and drown myself or these damned letters the Guild keeps sending me. They've been up my ass ever since Bartrand disappeared."

He sounded so honestly frustrated that Hawke was tempted to grab the stack of letters that he'd brought over to the table and have Anders light them on fire instead.

"I'm not healing any paper cuts!" Anders warned before Hawke followed him away from the table and toward the bath.

"We all know the second he bitches about getting blood all over his precious letters you'll come running," Hawke said.

"I can still hear you," Varric said as he reached for his pen and the first letter.

"That was the point," Hawke said, sharing a grin with Anders as they stopped at the foot of the tub. "All right. Show me what you can do."

"You might want to stand back," Anders said.

Hawke took him at his word and stood out of range of any stray bolts of fire or lightning or whatever. Anders lifted his hands overhead and traced intricate patterns in the air that left glittering sparkles of frost in their wake. He cast a spell at the tub almost too quick to catch and filled the tub with a solid block of ice.

Hawke shivered just looking at it and noticed that the air and her skin really did feel noticeably drier. "I'm going to have to give you a two out of ten, Anders. Your balls will probably freeze to the ice and then where will that leave you? I'm not getting you unstuck."

"I'm not done yet, Hawke," Anders said as he retrieved the staff he had left propped up next to the door. "I don't know any actual water spells so ice and fire it is."

"If you blow up my tub, paper cuts will be the least of your problems, Blondie," Varric warned.

"Don't worry. I have done this before."

"Those layers of grime could have fooled me."

"Stop distracting the man or he really will blow us all up," Hawke scolded.

Anders didn't use anything as elaborate as a fireball to melt the ice. Instead, he inscribed a flame rune onto the smooth, glassy surface. They watched as the rune sizzled and sunk into the ice with a hiss of steam, cutting a perfect impression into the ice. The rune must have settled at the bottom of the tub instead of disappearing because quicker than Hawke had thought possible the bathtub was full to the brim with steaming hot water.

Hawke really had been intending to leave Anders to bathe in relative privacy, but the sight of the steaming bath water drew a sound of plaintive longing from her. She was filthy from crawling around beneath Darktown and had been subsiding on mostly room temperature dunks. The few times Varric had managed to coax her out of bed the bath water had been sitting long enough to grow cold and they didn't have a mage conveniently on hand to warm it back up again.

"Can I join you?" Hawke asked before she could think better of it. She wasn't even looking at Anders, staring instead at the wisps of steam that curled beckoning tendrils toward her as she fingered a buckle on her bloodied leathers. Varric cleared his throat and Hawke started, realizing that Anders hadn't said anything for several minutes.

"I mean," she said hastily, "if you don't mind doing that trick again later, I can take one after you?"

"Subtle, Hawke," she thought she heard Varric mutter, but when she shot him a look his head was down and he was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

Anders was trying painfully for casual when he shrugged and said, "It's not like we haven't bathed together before, right?" but Hawke caught his blush when he turned away and started undoing the clasps to his coat.

"Right…" Hawke said. She was sorry that she'd asked, but the idea of a hot bath after cavorting around in the dirt and muck was too irresistible whether she had a bathing partner or not.

Anders was even more closed-off once they were actually in the bath, both of them naked with water up to their chins when they slouched. He avoided looking at her and kept to the opposite end of the tub with his knees tucked up against his birdlike chest even though there was more than enough room for them to stretch out - if neither of them minded a bit of overlap. Clearly, someone minded. Not to be deterred, Hawke straightened her legs so that her toes brushed the outside of Anders' hip. She pretended not to notice the startled look he gave her by closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the edge of the tub.

Blocks of stone stacked into a basin-like shape were even less comfortable than they appeared, but she didn't have to fake her sigh of pleasure as heat seeped into her skin and relaxed her tense muscles. She was probably at risk of falling asleep and drowning, but the slosh of water just below her collarbone jostled her from her doze. She cracked open an eye to catch Anders staring at the line of her throat with a hungry expression very similar to the one he'd given the lamb chops right before he'd devoured them.

The look vanished the instant she shifted, sitting up and working a kink out of her neck. Anders dunked his head to get his hair wet and grabbed the cake of soap and a flannel that Hawke had set next to the tub along with a couple human-sized towels. She'd had to go searching for them so she wouldn't have to decide between covering her tits or her ass once she got out of the bath. Hawke suspected Varric had the towels altered to be shorter on purpose just for that reason.

Anders briskly lathered up, sparing no illusion that he was eager to bathe and get out as quickly as possible, probably while cursing himself for giving into Hawke's request to take a bath together. Hawke figured she had nothing left to lose at that point…other than her dignity or Anders' friendship, but even that didn't stop her from brushing her toe against him again. And then again, until she was rhythmically stroking the soft skin over his hip.

"Hawke…" he said, a quiet warning as his long fingers wrapped around her ankle and stilled the motions of her foot.

Hawke looked back at him and lifted her chin as she wiggled her toes disobediently, not even feigning innocence. Anders already looked better for having eaten and bathed. He could use a shave and his cheeks were still gaunt, but there was a flush of color to his natural pallor that might have more to do with her than the heat of the bath. Hawke could glance down and gauge that answer for herself, but she kept her eyes fixed above his stubbled chin. She propped her elbows on the edge of the tub behind her and let her fingertips dangle in the water. The position lifted her chest, exposing her dusky pink nipples to the air that still held a hint of Anders' ice spell despite the steam that wafted from the bath.

"If you'd like, I could wash your hair?" Hawke said, resting the side of her foot against his thigh, but not moving otherwise.

Like her, his eyes didn't move below her chin, but he took a deep, shuddering breath and let go of her ankle one finger at a time like an invisible force had to peel them away. It wasn't impossible that was actually the case. She'd seen Anders use telekinesis before – or rather, saw the effects of him using telekinesis. A good indicator was when one of their enemies clutched at their head and screamed while Anders squinted at them really hard.

"All right," Anders said so quietly that Hawke nearly missed it.

"Come here and turn your back to me," Hawke said just as softly, trying not to break the fragile spell that kept him from running away.

She figured positioning themselves this way would be less stressful than simply climbing into his lap. She didn't actually expect him to go through with it because of how reclusive he'd been all day, but it was her turn to take a nervous breath when he knee-walked toward her and did as directed.

Hawke guided him with fleeting touches of her hands and knees, trying not to linger more than necessary for fear of scaring him off or losing herself to the desire to touch him and never stop until she'd cataloged every single scar on display to her. From this angle, she could actually see the tattoo Anders had mentioned a while ago. The ink on his shoulder was blown out and looked more like a dark, blobby birthmark that may or may not have been a cat at one point. The shape of it reminded her of lying in a field of sweet clover with Carver and Bethany tucked under each arm while she pointed out shapes to them in the clouds.

A tension she hadn't realized she was carrying eased when Anders sighed and melted back against her chest. Hawke had always been the protector in her family ever since the twins were born. That hadn't changed after Carver died or when she'd gotten to Kirkwall and slowly started building her found family. She wasn't used to being the one needing to be taken care of but this… making sure Anders was fed and clean and content - if not exactly happy - helped give her back some confidence that she'd left behind in the Deep Roads.

Anders' hair was already wet so she removed his hair tie and reached for the bottle of liquid soap that had another stupidly foreign name like the pastries, except Antivan. Sapo castilliensis, or something like that. Either way, it was slippery and sudsy and smelled like a combination of sandalwood and something sharp like wood smoke. It was a very Varric-like smell. Hawke bit her lip to stifle a whimper as the scent tantalized her with memories of things Varric had used that soap for that didn't involve bathing at all.

Anders' hair was too filthy for a slow and sensual head massage, but he didn't complain when Hawke dug her nails into his scalp and scrubbed vigorously. She rinsed and repeated until she couldn't feel grit gathering beneath her short nails any longer, though she took her time on the last round. She massaged his temples, behind his ears, and the base of his skull until his entire body went limp and he was all but purring in her hands.

After rinsing him off the final time, Hawke guided him down to rest his head against her shoulder as she wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, breathing in the clean scent of Anders and soap as she leaned her cheek against his. Despite how thin he was, Hawke didn't think she could move him even if she wanted to. His body was dead weight pinning her against the edge of the tub, but his was a welcome weight that made her feel secure rather than crushed.

When the water started to cool off Anders didn't even open his eyes before spelling another glyph to warm it right back up again. If Hawke had been the one with magic she probably would have boiled them alive. She could have been content to stay there and never move again, except something convinced her to open her eyes and peer downward if only to confirm a nagging suspicion…a hope?

She traced the narrow planes of Anders chest with her eyes down to the waterline, which had become slightly murky but not enough to obscure the sight of his very hard and slightly curved cock lying nestled against his belly. Hawke stared at his cock like she was willing it to jump up and start dancing while her hands carefully slid from his waist to his hips and back up to his ribs slow enough that she barely caused any ripples in the water.

A quick check confirmed Anders' eyes were still closed, although she had to check again to make sure she wasn't molesting him in his sleep. She wasn't. Anders exhaled a soft moan against her throat when her touches became bolder, sliding over his stomach and chest and shoulders in an unhurried loop.

Hawke didn't actually know how to give a massage, so when her hands returned to his chest she squeezed experimentally at his pectorals like she was testing fruit for ripeness or grabbing Isabela's tits. Her palms grazed over the stiff, rubbery peaks of his nipples before moving outward to knead his biceps, triceps, and forearms all the way down until she reached his hands. His fingers were long and dexterous and calloused, and she spent several minutes gently stretching and massaging and wiggling each finger before kneading his palms and the balls of his thumb.

His nails could use a good buffing, but that was Varric's forte, not hers. She kept up the hand massage until her fingers threatened to cramp. Hawke was tempted to drop his hands and grab his cock to rub down instead, which had only grown harder and redder the more she touched him. But he was so relaxed, so trusting of her at his back with all of his guards down that she wrapped her arms around his torso instead so she wouldn't give into temptation. She closed her eyes and settled back, listening to the scratch of Varric's nib on parchment and Anders' quiet breaths.

She could feel his heartbeat through his back where it was flush against her chest and she felt her own heart pound in response. She tightened her arms around him, hugged her knees against his sides, and buried her face against the side of his neck. She wrapped him in a full body hug while she waited for the waves of throbbing desire and contentment that coursed through her to flow down the drain like dirty bathwater.

He settled a hand against her arm just below the curve of her elbow and gave a light squeeze. Not a rebuke or a precursor to him pushing her away, but rather like he was holding her to him even tighter. He tipped his head back, exposing the pale curve of his throat that was exactly the perfect shape for Hawke's lips. She rested them there like he had that night in the Warden's camp after she'd nearly died, feeling his heartbeat strong and fast against her lips like he must have felt hers.

Anders' hand kneaded her forearm. It was the only part of him that moved when Hawke's lips drifted up the side of his neck to the sharp jut of his jawbone. She felt the hinge of his jaw work as his mouth fell open just slightly on a breath. Hawke let her mind go blank as she followed that breath to its source. The angle wasn't ideal, but Hawke reached up to tilt Anders' chin toward her so she could kiss his cheek, his chin, the corner of his lips until they started to move against hers. The kiss was gradual at first, a barely there pressure against her lips, until he twisted his head to fit their mouths together before turning over in her arms altogether.

Heat pulsed between Hawke's legs like he'd placed a glyph deep within the recesses of her sex and she parted her knees to welcome him between them. He settled his weight against her, crowding her up against the side of the tub as he kissed her like he was fucking her. His tongue speared past her lips and pried her open while his cock thrust in tiny motions against her belly. He tasted like dinner and sticky-sweet lyrium. Not so recovered, then, if he still needed to supplement his mana with potions.

Hawke couldn't help but think of all of those refugees and impoverished people haunting Darktown, depending on Anders to fix everything even though there was only one of him and so many of them. He couldn't be expected to care for them all, yet he was on the verge of working himself to death attempting to do just that. Like he owed them anything, or like he was trying to find redemption through his own suffering. She was angry suddenly, furious, that there wasn't more being done to help. If not for Anders, these people would have no one at all, no experienced healer to bring babies into this world with his wonderful, gentle hands, no one to ease the afflictions of the elderly, no one to mend together families who would have otherwise been ravaged by loss like hers had been.

The Chantry spewed the Maker's blessing and verses from the Chant of Light without actually putting action to words. They sat high and pious in their lavish shrine to the Maker while turning a blind eye to the poor and suffering at their door. The Guard was hardly any better. Aveline was doing the best she could, but she was one outsider fighting against corruption and negligence that had been festering for years while guards continued to accept bribes or ignored muggings and murders alike.

And the templars… Hawke had never expected to be a spokesperson for mage rights, but how could she not be upset when she'd seen firsthand how good, honest people like her father and sister and Karl and now the man in her arms had all been hunted or abused by templars in some way? Meredith was someone in a position of power who truly thought she was doing the right thing by bringing mages to heel beneath her iron fist, but instead she was sticking her finger into a leak that was building more and more pressure behind it each day. Sooner or later the dam would burst, catching those who were guilty and innocent alike in the crossfire.

Hawke wasn't driven enough to do anything more than protect those closest to her. Varric insisted on making up ridiculous stories about her, convinced she had the potential for greatness. Personally, she suspected him of trying to mold her into his perfect heroine for his next serials, but she knew herself well enough to know that she'd only ever be the comic relief or made into an example of what not to do.

Hawke didn't want to think about any of that right now, not when Anders was kissing her like he was going to suck her soul out through her mouth. Her hips hitched upward, seeking by instinct to complete the connection that the kiss started. The head of Anders' cock brushed over her clit and Hawke jolted, clinging to him as she ground herself desperately against that hard length. The sound she made must have snapped Anders back to his senses. The next thing Hawke knew she was coming up for air, coughing and sputtering – not from the kiss, but because Anders had accidentally dunked her. Hawke was pretty sure it had been an accident.

Anders ripped himself away from her, sloshing water onto the floor as he clung to the opposite side of the tub like he was going to vault out of it any second. Hawke caught her breath and flailed upright like she'd been doused in cold water. She glared at Anders in confusion, but he wasn't even looking at her. He was looking right at Varric with the guiltiest expression she had ever seen, and that was including when he'd nearly killed the girl they had saved from Alrik. The view from the table to the bathtub was entirely unobstructed so there was no way Varric hadn't seen or heard exactly what they'd been getting up to right in front of him.

As usual, his ability to read minds was unnerving.

"Should I leave you two to play alone?" Varric asked in a voice laced with amusement when they were both eyeballing him uncertainly.

He didn't even bother to glance up as he licked a fingertip and discarded a finished letter into his outgoing pile before beginning the next. Somewhere along the way he had donned a pair of spectacles with gold wire frames that made him look unbearably handsome. Hawke would tease him mercilessly about his age before ever admitting that.

She looked back at Anders in a silent question, but the poor man looked like Varric had just threatened to cut off his balls and feed them to him. They hadn't discussed her pursuing either Anders or Fenris, but she assumed if the terms of their relationship had changed significantly Varric would be the first to let her know and draft out copies in triplicate to all parties involved. She wouldn't hold him accountable for anything he said in the Deep Roads when they were both fresh off near-death experiences and delirious with hunger and exhaustion long before then.

Hawke needed to be needed…and to take care of others the way Varric did for her. Even when everything and everyone was falling apart, Varric was the rock that kept her grounded. Hawke wouldn't have gotten very far without him after he'd come along and offered her the opportunity of a lifetime. She'd still be a too-mouthy merc trying to make a name for herself or else ended up in an alley with a knife in her back. They were still recovering from that 'opportunity of a lifetime', but Hawke couldn't get better by being scared and idle. Slogging through the underground with Anders and Varric at her side again had coaxed the first sparks of life within Hawke in far too long.

She didn't want to lose that momentum even if action took a form other than fighting. Varric was her partner, her love, and pretty much the only thing that made this - her and Anders making out in a bathtub - even remotely acceptable was knowing Varric would still be there no matter what.

"Stay?" Hawke said to Varric but caught and held Anders' eye when he shot a startled glance at her.

She could see Anders' unspoken question as well as his hesitation and longing and fear. She didn't know which of those emotions sleeping with him would alleviate and which would make worse. But he hadn't actually rebuffed her advances and Anders was no stranger to Hawke's penchant for public displays. He also didn't deny Varric's insinuation that they'd get up to nefarious deeds if left alone together.

"Stay," Hawke said with absolute certainty as Anders' hand reached out to tentatively curl around her own.