Chapter Two

It was sunset by the time Hawke finally pushed open the door to her estate, dirty, sore and in a fouler mood than she could ever remember being in before. The one pleasure, the one joy she had to look forward to in her exhausting life, and the Maker or the Universe, or whatever mystical prick was responsible for her missing out on a day spent alone with Anders, could just fuck right off. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't.

"My Lady, you're home, I was beginning to worry. Master Anders left only an hour ago, after waiting for you the entire afternoon."

Bodahn droned on about all the messages awaiting her, and other useful information, she was sure, but her disappointment was too sharp to be around anyone for a while. After muttering something to excuse herself, she shuffled up to her bedroom with heavy steps. After stripping off her filthy clothes, because of course what was supposed to be a quick errand with Hubert, her business partner in the Bone Pit venture, turned into an all day, giant pain in the ass to resolve. Naturally, there were spiders and dragonlings to kill, and miners to reassure and coax back into the mine. All of it on her own, as she had no companions with her, since it was supposed to be a day off, to relax with Anders!

Growling, she sank down in the hot bath, wincing at all the cuts and bruises across her body that she was sure would be an impressive rainbow of colors by morning. She would go to Anders and ask him to heal her if she didn't fear she would burst into tears at the sight of him, due to her frustration and disappointment with how the day had turned out. But the Maker, or whoever, seemed to have decided she needed to suffer today, and at the present time she was too tired to fight against fate.

After she cleaned herself and the water became too cold to sit in any longer, she drug herself out of the bath, dried off, put on her longest, softest robe and stood in her bedroom debating what to do next. Should she put an immediate and decisive end to her terrible day and go crawl straight into bed and go to sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow? Or, should she fully embrace the misery in all its painful glory, and brood and wallow for several hours? Deciding brooding and wallowing was the most appealing option, she turned toward her desk, intent on writing out her frustrations as she sometimes did. Perhaps she would even draw her partner, Hubert, complete with horns, a tail and talons. A sadistic smile graced her lips while she rummaged among the things on her desk, looking for her sketchbook.

"Where is it?" she muttered, glancing behind her to check her bedside table and finding it empty. Frowning, she tried to remember where she had last had her book, slapping a hand against her forehead when she recalled Bodahn bringing Hubert into the library this morning. She had been drawing when she was interrupted and only had time to close it, and had then forgotten to return it to the desk in her room as she normally did. Sighing and muttering an array of curse words under her breath, she wandered back downstairs and into the library, closing the door behind her. Inhaling a deep breath of the smell of the cozy fire burning, and the unique dust every library boasted, she smiled, some of the day's tension draining away just from being back in one of her favorite places.

Walking to her desk where she conducted most of her business and wrote her correspondence, she looked down, expecting to see her book lying exactly where she left it, untouched and awaiting her return. Ready for her to dump all her thoughts and feelings that were too difficult to face or too taboo to discuss with anyone.

That is not quite what she saw. Hawke stared, a faint shiver of foreboding crawling up her spine when she saw not only what amounted to her sketchbook-diary, the place she deposited all her frustrations, angst and secret longing for Anders, but also the sketch of him she had drawn only yesterday. It was lying on the far side of the desk, completely out in the open, a place she had certainly not put it. But worse, oh, so much bloody worse! There was a letter resting directly on top of her book. A letter addressed to her, Elayna. A letter addressed to her, Elayna, in Anders' elegant hand.

"Oh, shit," she whispered.

A giant pit felt like it opened up inside her stomach, a pit of shame, horror and dread as she had never felt before. An ominous gurgle seemed to threaten if she didn't get her panic under control quickly, she was going to vomit. Turning away, she concentrated on breathing, slow and deep, pacing to the fireplace, sparks of wild magic buzzing from her fingertips while she walked back and forth, back and forth. This was the absolute worst thing that could ever have happened to her. He saw her book, he had to have seen it! Did he read it, did he see her drawings, all of her drawings? A pitiful whimper that crawled up her throat sounded loud in the empty room, another surge of panic rolling through her and causing a fine trembling to start. Her mind raced with possibilities and choices.

Should she toss the letter, book, sketches and everything into the fire? Not read what he had to say to her? Pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and hope Anders would be merciful and decide to play along? Could she possibly get away with it? A crazed laugh echoed in the room while she covered her eyes with both hands.

"Alright, think," she muttered, attempting to recover some semblance of logical thought. "You've talked your way out of impossible shit before, just treat this as another situation where you're going to need to do a miraculous ass-pull, and then sell it." She nodded her head in emphasis and turned to face the desk and letter as though it were a fire-breathing dragon.

I would rather face a fire-breathing dragon than read that letter, right now, she thought, in desperation. With a dragon I know what to expect, whereas a fire-breathing Anders… She winced, knowing it would have to get much, much worse before there were any chance of it getting better. She had to read it. Had to. There was nothing for it. Just make herself do it. Get it over with. Nodding in agreement with her silent pep talk and resolve, she reached out and snatched the letter before she could change her mind, forcing herself to open it and look at the words.

Dearest, secretive Elayna,

I'm sure you have realized by now that your closely held secrets are no longer a secret from me, not anymore. I hope the panic you undoubtedly experienced upon this realization was not too traumatic and passed quickly. I have never enjoyed seeing you distressed and I do try to avoid causing it as much as is humanly possible.

I know I should really apologize for invading your privacy, like the very lowest of the low. What kind of friend does that? Perhaps one with a truly insatiable curiosity where you are concerned, and concealing a few long-buried secrets of his own? I couldn't stop myself from reading your words, though they were meant only for your eyes and not mine. Looking at pictures you drew with so much sensitivity, feeling and talent, and yes, passion, though you never intended me to see them. I should beg your forgiveness, swear to mend my ways and promise never to do such a thing again. I really, really should. But I won't, and here's why-

I feel the same. fucking. way.

Didn't expect that, did you? But it's the truth. For the past three years, I have been going quietly mad, obsessing over all your many, wonderful aspects. Let's start with your generous, giving heart, and how you go out of your way to help others, enduring pain, blood and battles, all to make another person's life better or easier. A person or people that are often strangers to you, but you give of yourself to them anyway. That is remarkable, and rare to find in a world so full of selfishness and cruelty. For the next, I must mention your fierce loyalty and devotion. No one has ever made me feel more appreciated, more valued and worthy than you have. You love with a depth of feeling and commitment that others can only ever dream of. It's why people are drawn to you, why every one of your companions is happy to follow in your shadow; because you lead by example, asking no one to sip a bitter draught that you haven't repeatedly gulped from first.

I cannot describe my joy when I read of your feelings for me, in your own, stirring words. Your love is an arrow that has pierced my soul, through and through. I have nothing to give in return but my own heart, laid at your feet, scarred and bleeding, with your name carved deeply into it and now beating only for you. If you choose to accept it, my heart will belong to you, alone, and for as long as it continues its steady rhythm. Yes, I am declaring my love to you in this letter, although I would much rather do it in person. But I think you need to see the words written out in front of you, let them fully sink in before you will be ready to hear them from my lips. You see, sweetheart, I do know you better than you might think.

Now, to the final thing I want to discuss, and I am going to state this very plainly and hope my language won't offend you, so here we go. I want to fuck you, so badly, Elayna, I'm nearly ready to explode. I want to fuck you forward, backwards, sideways, upside down and everything in between, and no, you won't be able to think, but I promise you will feel. Here's another promise, I'm going to make you come so hard and so many times, you'll be endlessly praising my name, instead of the Maker's. Passion is going to be a very pale word for what you and I will share, and love, I want you to think about this and anticipate it- sex between us, two mages with a lot of power to play with between us, I predict it's going to shift the way you view your magic and yourself. You don't have to be afraid to let yourself go and lose control with me, I want you to lose it. I'll be right there to catch you when you fall. You'll be safe in my care, I swear it.

After you have had time to process all this, when you feel ready to speak, come and find me. Or else, send word and I'll come to you. I'll be counting the hours and minutes, (quite literally, I'm so bloody hard for you) until our next meeting.

Yours,

Anders

Lowering the most amazing letter she had ever read, Elayna wept into her free hand, all her fear and anxiety finding release, at last. Years of yearning, aching and wanting, Anders had done away with all her misery in one day, with a single letter. It was the best, most incredible day of her life. She loved this day! Anders loved her! Anders loved her! Nothing else could ever top this, except for, maybe… Her tears stopped completely while she reread the entire thing, then reread his final, sexy paragraph, over and over, until she knew it by heart. Reading that he wanted to fuck her, badly, didn't offend her in the slightest, it turned her on. She wanted to hear him say it, watch his lips when he said the words, needed to hear his voice, which had always touched things, deep down inside her.

But, now what? Should she wait, and if so, for how long? Could she run down to the clinic and speak with him tonight? Considering, she shook her head, rejecting the idea. Darktown was hardly a location she wanted to experience her first time coming together with the man she loved and had already waited so long for. Pulling out the chair, she sat at her desk and slid her book closer, tracing the hawk on the cover while all Anders' words continued to happily marinate in her mind. It was only then she noticed there were pieces of loose paper inserted all throughout her book. Curious, she opened to where the first paper lay, smiling when she saw it was another note from Anders, with comments on the things she had written or drawn. How thrilling! The idea of knowing what he thought of her unguarded and naked feelings and opinions was suddenly irresistible. Folding her legs underneath her to get more comfortable, she started to read.

My fierce, lovely Elayna,

This was the first page of your book I read, the one that moved me so deeply, even beyond what I will likely be able to express to you in words, but I will do my best.

You are not wrong in your speculation of how hard it was for me to suddenly have my happy life ripped away at age twelve, but let me add another detail for you, which I didn't relate to Varric due to its personal nature. It was my own father that reported me as a mage, it was he who called the templars to come and shackle me, to drag me away as though I were some feral animal they had to be on their guard against. You wondered why no one hid me, why no one helped me flee, and at the time, I wondered the same.

It was my hope that those I loved, and those I thought loved me would help me, save me, do anything other than passively accept what happened. It was the death of that hope that was a pivotal moment in my life, why I refused to speak for a long while when they first brought me to the Ferelden Circle. It was the reason I wouldn't give my birth name when asked, because when that hope that my family and village would love me enough to protect me perished, so did the boy I once was. He was dead, and it seemed wrong to go by the name of a lad who was betrayed to his death by his own father.

Hawke lifted her head and covered her mouth to muffle the sob that wracked her from reading his childhood recounting. She could feel the pain of his betrayal as though it were her own. How had he been strong enough to endure that and still become the caring, excellent person he had? She didn't think she would have been that strong, more likely it would have totally broken her. After another moment she mastered her emotions and continued reading.

Regarding my mother, I think she would have tried to help me had it not been for my father. She was a very loving person, by nature. Of course, no contact or correspondence is ever permitted between a mage and the people who were formerly their family, and it really is as though a death had occurred. I did hear that she wrote me some letters once, from one of the templars who was a right bastard and enjoyed the pain of others. I have no way of knowing if he told the truth or only said it to try and get a rise out of me, but I never saw a letter, so it will remain just one more question I am not permitted the answer to.

There is also another reason I cannot truly fault my mother for not doing more for me, and that is because she had another child in her care. I have told no other person this, not ever, but I had a little sister. Her name was Johanna and she was not yet four years old when I was taken, so consequently would likely have had no memories of me after. She was like a little ray of sunshine, pale blonde hair much lighter than mine, and a perpetual smile. She was my shadow who followed me everywhere, and I loved her utterly. For years, I lived in terror that she would also have magic and end up in the tower with me, but as time went by and she didn't appear, I was finally able to put that fear to rest. I hope she has had a good and joyful life. The rare times I permit myself to think of her, I like to imagine her with a family, perhaps even surrounded by little girls who were as beautiful as she was as a child.

And now, I would like to discuss your words that touched me so deeply and profoundly. After reading my account of my experience, you can likely guess what it is, but I will quote your words here so there is no doubt.

'Why didn't anyone fight for him? I would have. I would have roasted every templar that tried to touch him. I WILL roast anyone, templar or otherwise who ever tries to hurt him again. I wasn't there then, but he's here with me now, and mine to protect. I would do anything to keep him safe.'

I know you would have fought for me, my darling, had you been there, just as I would fight to the death and beyond to protect you now. I adore that you see me as yours to protect, and I feel the same for you. Your fierce love stole my heart long ago. It's what I feel true love is, refusing to accept harm and wrong towards others, refusing to turn a blind eye to cruelty and hate. Being willing to do the hard things and become the hero that others need to inspire them to greatness. Our love, together, has the power to change the world.

I know we will support each other toward those goals, lift up and strengthen one another. I no longer live in fear, I will doggedly pursue dreams and desires that are important to us both, with the courage you inspire in me. Who declares mages can't marry? We will if we choose to, if it's something you want, and should we ever have a child, I have no concerns whether he or she would have magic or not. They would have parents who loved them, and would never give them up or allow them to be removed from our care. You would be a truly fierce, devoted mother, the exact kind every child needs to feel loved.

Should we have a son, perhaps we might even give him the name of the twelve year old boy I once was, the one who died from betrayal and heartbreak. One day soon, I will whisper that name in your ear that you have been so desperate to know, and you can do with it what you will. The final piece of my heart that is deservedly yours. I do love you desperately, Elayna. I hope you will never tire of me saying it, because I intend to tell you how much you mean to me every day, now I have the joy of knowing you are mine.

Yours,

Anders

Wiping at her happy tears, Hawke held the letter she had just read to her heart, feeling thankful, hopeful and excited for what tomorrow would bring.

~O~