Awww yesss Dragon Age and Anders/Hawke! I went with m!Hawke, mage. Happy V-Day!
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Life on the run, Hawke quickly discovered, was far different with Anders than with his family.
There was no Carver glowering and second-guessing his every decision, there was no frazzled mother trying desperately to keep the peace and there was no Bethany forever caught between the risks of using magic and the risk of freezing/starving if she didn’t.
There was just Anders, apologetic and exhausted, but forever loyal. Anders had run a free clinic with very little in the way of supplies and knew how to brew teas against fever, how to make salves against infection and how to make creams that when massaged into tired limbs would prevent stiffness from setting in overnight.
Hawke, meanwhile, reserved his energy for more offensive magic. He might use the occasional fireball to light their campfires but for the most part, he kept his magic in reserve. He could fight without fearing the emergence of a Fade spirit; Anders could not.
(No matter what Anders said about Vengeance and him being one, Hawke would not believe it. There was no time for moral quandaries in their eked-out existence. They had each other and that was that.)
“Here,” Anders said, moving over to the stew pot and scattering a handful of seeds inside the thin broth. Thick chunks of fish bubbled up and turned over, exposing their white flesh, while a variety of leaves swirled about in the water. “That’ll make it a little hotter. Almost like pepper.”
“Delicious. The Chantry wasted your talents having you play mage instead of chef for them,” Hawke quipped, poking the fire with a branch. Built under a bluff with a discreet chimney hollow that sent the smoke away from them, the fire would not give away their location and they could enjoy the luxury of a hot meal. “I think they were afraid I’d poison them,” Anders laughed; the sound was still raw but it sent more heat through Hawke than any fire could. “Would you have?” Hawke asked, suddenly curious. The explosion had killed so many but before that – had Anders still held that same willingness to kill anyone who was a member of the Chantry?
“Maybe some of them. Put the antidote in their wine, pour it out for everyone except my targets, then give them all the poisoned dish.” Anders answered without looking at Hawke.
“…Clever,” Hawke admitted. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned to the side and brushed a kiss over Anders’ cheek. Yes. Anders wasn’t the same as Vengeance. Hawke had made the right choice.
no subject
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Life on the run, Hawke quickly discovered, was far different with Anders than with his family.
There was no Carver glowering and second-guessing his every decision, there was no frazzled mother trying desperately to keep the peace and there was no Bethany forever caught between the risks of using magic and the risk of freezing/starving if she didn’t.
There was just Anders, apologetic and exhausted, but forever loyal. Anders had run a free clinic with very little in the way of supplies and knew how to brew teas against fever, how to make salves against infection and how to make creams that when massaged into tired limbs would prevent stiffness from setting in overnight.
Hawke, meanwhile, reserved his energy for more offensive magic. He might use the occasional fireball to light their campfires but for the most part, he kept his magic in reserve. He could fight without fearing the emergence of a Fade spirit; Anders could not.
(No matter what Anders said about Vengeance and him being one, Hawke would not believe it. There was no time for moral quandaries in their eked-out existence. They had each other and that was that.)
“Here,” Anders said, moving over to the stew pot and scattering a handful of seeds inside the thin broth. Thick chunks of fish bubbled up and turned over, exposing their white flesh, while a variety of leaves swirled about in the water. “That’ll make it a little hotter. Almost like pepper.”
“Delicious. The Chantry wasted your talents having you play mage instead of chef for them,” Hawke quipped, poking the fire with a branch. Built under a bluff with a discreet chimney hollow that sent the smoke away from them, the fire would not give away their location and they could enjoy the luxury of a hot meal.
“I think they were afraid I’d poison them,” Anders laughed; the sound was still raw but it sent more heat through Hawke than any fire could.
“Would you have?” Hawke asked, suddenly curious. The explosion had killed so many but before that – had Anders still held that same willingness to kill anyone who was a member of the Chantry?
“Maybe some of them. Put the antidote in their wine, pour it out for everyone except my targets, then give them all the poisoned dish.” Anders answered without looking at Hawke.
“…Clever,” Hawke admitted. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned to the side and brushed a kiss over Anders’ cheek. Yes. Anders wasn’t the same as Vengeance. Hawke had made the right choice.