Bartrand's absent eyes turned as Varric said his name again, unable to quite focus as he sat up more, "Is that you, little brother?"

"Who else would come see someone like you," Varric said with a smirk, clearing his throat. It was the third time the eldest son of House Tethras had greeted them thusly. "Just checking in."

"Always trying to get under my skin," Bartrand said, shaking his head as he looked back towards the iron windows of the sanatorium. It seemed odd that the sun shone in, revealing the cracked stone underfoot. But even the breeze it brought could not be rid of the scent of urine and must. "I - I keep imagining there is something there. Do you hear it, brother?"

"We were thinking of going into the gardens," Varric said, his voice cracking. "You can see the mountains."

"All that sky," Bartrand said. "Mother was always wary."

"But here we are," Varric chuckled, "Feet still firm on the ground."

"I don't know if I can feel it," Bartrand narrowed his eyes. "It's almost there."

Hawke crossed her arms, maintaining her distance as she looked down. Bartrand's eyes had glazed again. Varric finally gave him a clap on the back, before turning to the doorway where she was. He shook his head and they walked down the hall, past the waiting lay sister. It wasn't until they had made it past the gate and were back on the road to Kirkwall that they spoke.

"I don't know what possessed me to put him here," Varric mumbled, hands deep in his coat pockets. "Damned Chantry wenches."

"He seems to be doing better," Hawke said, sucking at her bottom lip before adding, "Less drool."

Varric laughed emptily and nodded, before soberly saying, "Yeah." He sighed and looked skyward, "Why do I come here, Hawke?"

"Because you're a glutton for punishment," she replied, arching a brow. "I could tweak a nipple if you'd like? Push you down and kick you? No? Well, the offer's there."

"And if not you, I'm sure Isabela would happily oblige."

"Indeed," Hawke said, resting a hand on his head and prompting the dwarf to roll his eyes. "Though I guarantee it wouldn't be half as enjoyable."

Varric smacked her hand away, smirking as they trudged along the road. It wasn't until they were around the next bend that the quietly said, "You're a good friend, Hawke."

"Inspiring folk like us need to stick together," Hawke said, clasping her hands behind her as she walked with him. She grinned a little, "Makes all the others look terrible. And who can resist that?"

Hawke knelt behind Anders' back, her legs spread around his hips as she drew the brush through his hair. His eyes were closed and his head hung forward, lax and moving with ease with each tug of the brush. He softly sighed.

"You spoil me."

"Someone has to," Hawke quietly replied, tilting her head and massaging her fingers over his head as she brushed. He sighed and his posture slumped more in relaxation. "You're a tom cat not used to the preening, but ohhh how you purr when you are petted properly."

"I'm not sure I ever want to get used to this," he quietly said.

Hawke leant forward, kissing his cheek before slipping off the bed. She returned with a bowl and filled it with warm water from the fire. She set it in his lap before kneeling behind him again, dropping a small kit beside her. Skin to skin, she wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered, "I have a bit of a proposal."

"Oh?" Anders softly said, closing his eyes as she ran her hands up his body.

Lathering up a brush, Hawke pulled him back flush against her breasts, before smearing the foamy soap up the underside of his neck and over his cheeks, "Yes. I thought you might like to go somewhere with me."

"Hmmm," Anders replied, pressing his lips together as she smeared the soap over them and beneath his nose. He closed his eyes.

Hawke dragged the straight blade over a bit of leather in a learned motion, before cradling his head against her shoulder. Hand on his forehead, she dragged the blade up his elongated neck, scraping away the soap and stubble. As she shaved, he sighed, and she whispered, "There is the viscount's harvest ball in a week's time."

Anders murmured incoherently, held carefully against her and unwilling to open his lips. The blade dragged up his neck, before Hawke flecked it down into the water to clean it and repeat the motion. He closed his eyes and sighed out of his nose before wiping the foamy soap off his lips, "When you have a blade to my throat."

"What good is a veiled threat otherwise," Hawke casually said, washing the blade again. Water dripped down his bare chest as she tilted his head sideways, paying heed to the stubble on his cheek. "I can think of no one more sexy than you to drape on my arm and flaunt in front of the nobles."

Anders held his breath as she flecked the blade, quickly skinning away the soap and hair. He exhaled out again, relaxing against her as she tilted his head the other way, "So you'll just parade me about? The mage you're living with?"

"They don't know you're a mage," Hawke defended. "Under your nose."

Obligingly tightening his lip down, Anders waited until she had dragged the blade before replying, "I... I don't know, Marian."

"Mother always used to go to these functions," she quietly replied, taking the cloth beside her and dipping it in the hot water. She laid it over his face. "But... I am the head of the Amell family now, for all accounts. I have to go - but I'd rather you were there with me so I might have at least a scrap of fun."

Anders sighed beneath the warm towel, leaving his head against her a bit. Finally, he leant forward, wiping the excess soap from his face and neck, "Thank you." He dropped the cloth in the bowl and stood up, placing it on the table.

Hawke's eyes fell down his body, and she let her hands drop to her thighs, "I'll let you pick my dress?"

"You?" Anders lips quirked, and he turned around. "In a dress?"

"Yes, I know," Hawke rolled her eyes. "The neighbours are all abuzz at the prospect. Imagine if I show up with a man dressed the part too?"

Running a hand over his smooth shave, Anders hummed a moment before being pulled back onto the bed with Hawke.

"Just think," she whispered, pulling his head to rest against her breasts as she laid back. "They'll be none the wiser. From what I've heard, Meredith never shows - and she is the only templar anywhere near invited. We can drink and dance and just..." She sighed a little, fingers through his hair.

Kissing her breast, Anders crawled over her to find her lips. She tangled his hair more, prompting a soft chuckle in his throat, before he said, "Just be normal people. A couple in love."

"Yes," she replied, hands down his body. "A night off. Please? It's my birthday?"

"It is?" Anders furrowed his brow, lips pulled into hers. He softly groaned as she teased him hard.

"No, not really," Hawke replied with a chuckle, and mussed his hair more.

"Didn't you just finish brushing that?"

"Yes," Hawke sighed, closing her eyes as he mouthed her neck, suckling and letting his tongue swirl. "Suppose I shall have to again." He murmured against her, unheard, and she wrapped a leg around him to pull him closer. "That was a yes?"

"You're very manipulative," he whispered, rubbing his smooth chin against her breast. He sighed and spoke one word before tugging the ring on her nipple, "Yes."