Grace
It had to happen sooner or later.
That was the problem with being an authority figure, especially one leading a revolution - people tended to look to you for authority, and she had always had a habit of collecting and protecting people like strays.
After the Nevarra Circle Uprising they'd picked up nearly twenty mages; some desperate to follow them to the relative safety of Tevinter, some wanting to stay with them afterward, for when they brought the war against the Divine. Useful, certainly, for inevitable templar run-ins. Not so much for hiding that your lover was an abomination or you're predisposed to dabble a little - just a little mind - in blood magic when the chips were down.
And when some templar prig rushed at her, knocking her down with a crushing blow... well, Vengeance hadn't been too pleased about that.
Not that Hawke got the see it. Liesl, one of the mages on the run from Cumberland, mentally blasted the bastard away and immediately set to work on the worst of her injuries. She wasn't nearly as good as Anders with healing, but given the horrified howls from the templars the blond mage's mind wasn't in the best place for such delicate work.
Hawke hissed as the tendrils of magic knitted flesh and bone back together; she hadn't even been aware of the slice she took to her back. Looked like Vael was going to stop treating her with kit-gloves. Either that, or he had stopped waffling enough to decide that he hated her more than he loved her. "Help me up," She muttered blearily, trying to ignore the pinched feeling of a cracked rib.
Liesl shook her head. "You're too hurt."
"You don't know how he gets!" She snapped at the girl, the pain making her words harder than necessary, but, Maker, this was important. He - they - needed her. "So help me up."
The girl hesitated slightly, but then shouted for her friend. Martel rushed close, and carefully pulled Hawke to standing, his arms steadying her back and uninjured side as Liesl continued pouring magic into her battered shell. The fighting before them had ceased but Vengeance still stood, looming over the mess of meat that used to be a man, blue-black smoke blurring the edges of his skin.
Hawke waved the two Cumberland mages away, wobbling the rest of the way over, and placed a shaky hand on Vengeance's arm. His attention spun, ever on edge, but the fire in his eyes dimmed considerably at meeting the cool blue of her own. "Love... Love, it's over."
"The Starkhaven heir will pay for his insult." The spirit roared, light flickering along the fissures in his flesh from his anger. "You were blameless to our perfidy, he knows this!"
"He's doing it because he knows it will hurt you," She replied tenderly, winding her fingers through the feathers on his coat, as much to calm him as to help her stand. "But I'm here. I'm still here."
Vengeance sucked in a harsh breath, the wrath not yet willing to yield, but Hawke has long figured out by now what best tempers him. And while the spirit still acts like an embarrassed virgin most of the time, with kissing, at least, she's gotten him to be perfectly comfortable.
He stilled at once as she pressed her lips forward, and Hawke can almost feel the torrent of emotion that washes through him. Vengeance breathed raggedly, struggling within himself for a moment until he suddenly clasped her face. He drinks deeply from her lips, again and again, Hawke reeling from the force, until the fire inside seemed, at last, smothered once more. Justice pulled back, the hands holding her firm still speckled lyrium-blue, but now devoid of smoke.
"You are injured." He murmured.
"Not too badly, and the worst of it has been taken care of." She smiled faintly, nodding at the assorted mages watching them, anxiously. "But it looks like we'll finally have to give the rest of the children the Talk."
"We will lose many good allies." Justice frowned. "They... will not understand."
"They might." Hawke chuffed a weak laugh. "I did."
Justice said nothing, and instead gathered her hands in his, turning them palm up. He kissed them and buried his face there a moment, soaking in her grace, as Hawke gazed at him lovingly, in equal measures, for both spirit and man.
"You'll find me in the Fade tonight?" She asked shyly.
Justice glanced up, the blue in his eyes beginning to melt back into brown. "Always, Lady."
Behind them, as Anders came back to himself, and Hawke collapsed in his arms, Liesl heaved a sigh at the sight of the two revolutionaries in love. "They're rather sweet, aren't they?"
Martel snorted, and shot her a dark look. "I suppose. If by 'sweet,' you mean completely fucked up."
The mage girl chuckled and took his hand. "It can be both."