"Commander? The Warden compound is this way," Carver said uncertainly once the palace gates had shut behind them and the commander had set off in the opposite direction.

"I know," Adara said over her shoulder. "I'm going to the market, I'm going to buy whatever fresh fruit I can find, and then I'm going to find a place to eat while I watch the harbor. If I go back now, I'll end up picking a fight with Jowan." She was bothered by her conversation with the king, for sure. There was a slump to her shoulders that he hadn't seen before. Carver thought he'd feel quite smug after hearing the monarchs agree with his own misgivings about their trip to Aeonar, but the feeling surprisingly wasn't there. Well, not much.

"If you want to fight Jowan, I'll help." Carver had known his fair share of very irritating mages, and Jowan was decently high on the list.

Adara huffed out her breath in what could have been a laugh. "Some other time, maybe. You can go back if you like. I'll be fine," she said, starting off again towards the market.

Carver frowned at her retreating back. Was Denerim as bad as Kirkwall? Nearly every time he had ventured out with Vivian and her collection of lunatics, they had been jumped by apostates, slavers, raiders, Tal-Vashoth, thieves, or gangsters. Maybe some of that was just bad Hawke luck. All the same, he would never forgive himself if something happened to the Warden Commander just because he decided he was feeling tired.

Carver trudged after her.

Adara led the way to the market. The noise and the traffic steadily increased as they drew closer, and so did Adara's pace. She must not enjoy the overwhelming press of the crowd any more than he did. She bought some blueberries from two human children selling baskets of them out of a small cart, and then she led the way to the north harbor. They walked along the wharf for a bit before Adara found an acceptable spot: a quiet place at the top of a staircase that led down to a small and currently unused dock.

"You know, blueberries are the first thing I ate after leaving the Circle Tower," she said as she sat on the top step. "As many handfuls of them as I could shove in my bag before the Warden Commander dragged me away." A smile ghosted across her face. "It had been so long, I almost forgot that fruit grew out of the ground."

Carver sat down next to her with the basket of berries between them. She nudged the basket closer to him, an invitation to share. He took a couple: they were tarter than he'd prefer but still good. "I'm glad we could keep my sisters out of the Circle, no matter how much of a pain in the ass it was," he said after a minute. He wasn't sure he could admit that out loud to Vivian, but he could say it here.

"Your sisters are mages?"

Were. He didn't want to talk about Bethany, so he didn't say it.

"Yep. Dad, too." His father had never spoken to them much about his time in the Gallows, but some of his eccentricities made more sense now. How could you turn out to be a normal person if you were locked up in a prison for most of your life? "It was always a battle to stay one step ahead of the templars."

"A life on the run can't feel like much of a life," Adara said.

"Damn right about that," Carver said, trying and failing to hide the bitterness in his voice. He regretted saying anything. Hadn't he always wanted to stand on his own two feet, out from under Vivian's shadow? How was he supposed to do that if he couldn't even mention his family in conversation without sounding sulky?

Carver turned his head to glance at Adara and gauge her reaction only to find her already looking at him with big pretty eyes. They held each other's gaze for a moment before looking away at the same time, both muttering something like an unnecessary apology.

What was she looking at him for? He could've sworn her gaze looked almost appraising… and approving. Carver felt that he ought to pursue this and cast about for something to say to continue the conversation. "So… you and the king, huh? Were a thing?" Oh, balls. Fuck. No, not that.

Adara looked at him with bemusement, and Carver braced to be told to mind his own business. "Were, yes. Court life isn't for me, as it turns out," she said after a moment.

Carver nodded and ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "Right, right." A few beats of silence. "So you're single?" Sodding Maker. He still wasn't used to not having Vivian around to punch him when his mouth raced ahead of his brain.

Adara must have choked on a blueberry because she started coughing. Carver went to pat her on the back, but she held up a hand to stop him. You idiot, his inner voice screamed. She's your commander, and she can also set you on fire with her brain.

To his very great surprise, the coughing didn't subside so much as turn into laughter. And not at him, either. He could tell the difference. "Yes, I suppose I am. And at my age, too."

He snorted. "You can't be any older than I am."

"You don't know that," she teased. "I might just look good for my old age. Maybe it's the magic, or maybe it's because I grew up locked in a tower. Not many sunburns."

"Lucky you," Carver said. "I got some bad ones growing up. One time I fell asleep in the fields. Instead of waking me up, my sister stacked stuff all over me. Made the shape of a… ah. Um." He made a few hand gestures, which unfortunately turned out to be far lewder than just saying the words. "So when I woke up, I had the worst sunburn of my life, plus my back had the shape of a cock and balls—ah, sorry."

"I'm not afraid of the word 'cock,' you know. I grew up in a Circle, not a Chantry."

"I know that, but you're my boss. It's not professional."

"Funny, I hadn't noticed you were the professional type. You did ask if I was single."

Carver chuckled and flicked a blueberry at her. She tried to catch it as it bounced off her arm, but the blueberry bounced down the steps and away. "Don't waste them!" she admonished him, but with a smile on her face.

"I'll get a rock for next time."

"But the others in your head would miss it," she teased. Coming from someone else, he might've gotten huffy, but she was smiling and biting her lip at the same time in a way that was very appealing. It all felt very normal, like flirting with the farm girls in Lothering. Right now they weren't Grey Wardens. Just people, sitting in the late afternoon sunlight and watching ships in the harbor. Normal. It was good to pretend.

"Oy, watch it. My sword's bigger than you, plus I'm pretty sure I could lift you with one arm."

"Maybe I'll let you try."

That got his face burning, and when he looked at her, he saw that her cheeks were flushed as well. Maybe it was just from the sun.

When he was transferred to Ferelden and introduced to his new commander, Carver hadn't been impressed. He had expected to find someone much larger. Not physically larger: everyone knew the Hero of Ferelden was an elven woman, and a mage to boot. Maybe it just wasn't possible for someone to actually look like they could fit that many great deeds inside them. Half of the stories about the Hero of Ferelden sounded like particularly fanciful bullshit that Varric was jealous he hadn't thought of first.

It was certainly difficult to reconcile a slayer of Archdemons with the woman he was sitting with now. Long strands of blonde hair were being blown into her face by the wind. She futilely tried to brush the hair out of her eyes with limited success and a small, crooked smile. It wasn't the kind of thing you'd paint a mural of and hang up in a castle or a chantry.

He probably wouldn't be getting the image out of his head anytime soon, though.

They fell quiet and sat together like that long after the basket of blueberries was empty, watching ships slowly come and go as the sun lowered and the sky deepened into dusky shades of purple and orange.