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Unresolved Tangles (Through a Glass Darkly 4)	By : Anesor Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3510 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. Some characters may be my creations. I get no money for writing this sequel.

Chapter List
- 9
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She is a distraction! She was never their prisoner or feared their Tranquility!
He wanted to snort at the spirit's outrage as he gathered his papers again. For once that disagreement didn't bother him as much. As he smoothed and arranged the papers into small piles, his early comparisons of lips and Hawke being his queen were just a little silly now.
He still believed that just as much, but more important was that she was life itself, stubborn, resilient and free. Life that found its green way into the darkest part his Warden taint with death all around. His gift from the Maker let him encourage any spark of life. But Hawke was that verdant spark, denying the Templars their death from sword or Tranquility, and denying even the Wardens' obsession with meaningful death.
Not that he wasn't obsessed with burying himself in her instead. Each small touch and glance was magnified beyond all measure in his imagination night after night as he pleasured himself. Those nights were ever more frequent as he ran out of distractions from her touch and smell.
He could no more turn away from her life than fail to try to heal a child.
She does not truly hunt Templars. She won't kill Templars like Thrask to free mages. She is selfish. She prevents our work!
He remembered her face after their kiss, and how she felt so soft even with their armor between them.
She distracts you even now from your patients and our cause! The Templars who murdered Karl must face justice, must pay for all the mages they harmed. She...
Shut up. I have patients now, right?
His spirit quieted as he moved over to speak with Elessah, who was gaining skill in making salves and potions. Underneath, his bubbling joy and wary fear alternated as the afternoon hours passed.
He kept remembering how they kissed and how her fingers snuck under his robes to make his skin burn for her. How he felt saner and hopeful for just holding her.
You are addicted to her, like some fiend who sucks away your dedication! You are weak...
...happily weak. She's my muse, my north star, my hope. When I'm not sure if I'm still a man, she reminds me by her very presence. She may not be a mage, but she is our advocate, partisan, champion, and friend, even when her sister is safe now.
He frowned at a salve he was making. She is my Aura, so shut it. Finally there was a small silence and he returned to his work, anticipating her lips.
When the time came to wash and dress in cleaner robes, his fears crowded his mind again. She'd glared at him when she left. Was that because she finally listened to him? Was she disappointed with him that he was too desperate? Or was she tired of ignoring his warnings? Did she want an easier lover like Isabela? Was he taking her stubbornness for granted? Had did he disgust her with Justice always watching?
Would her door be open?
As he walked to the large stone building in Hightown, he worried about which door might be locked. He didn't want to have to explain himself to Sandal, or worse, Leandra Hawke. Did he want the door unguarded because he was afraid to speak earlier? Would she just lock the door to her room and he would have to return to the darkness of his closet?
Would he be attacked on the street?
That would be simpler, removing his worries from his control.
The Hawke mansion was quiet and the door unlocked. He tried to remember if that was any different than usual for this time of day, but he entered and locked the door behind him. He heard a quiet sound down the hall where the servants' quarters were, but no one came out of the shadows to speak to him.
In a dream, he climbed the stair to the landing where he saw her door with the family crest on both sides. A stray thought made him wonder if the party girl at Kinloch, but the light shining through the open door brought his fears crashing down into nothing.
He felt giddy.
Hawke was in a short rose robe of fine materials, her legs bare as she stared into the fire. Visions of those legs, so close and so touchable crowded into his head, making him smirk as he entered.
She looked up and smiled, the golden light from the fireplace warming her face. “I wasn't sure you'd come.”
He still wasn't sure he was here. This meant more to him than earlier lovers of opportunity. “Justice thinks you're a distraction. He doesn't approve of my obsession with you. It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree.”
Hawke's eyes were huge and green when she tilted her head. “If you hadn't come, I'd be out looking for you. The Silent Sisters are active lately.”
Did she want him the way he wanted her? “Are you sure you wouldn't rather be with Isabela?”
She glared at him as she took a quick step forward. “Haven't you been paying attention at all? I'm not interested in her that way! Varric would be a bigger threat if Bianca didn't have his heart. Give me some credit for knowing what I want.”
He looked away, hunching for a moment against her anger... and against the results of his jealousy. How could he try to explain? “When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn't stand to lose.”
With her silence, he looked up at her and wondered what she was thinking. He had trouble speaking into her silence. “It would kill me to lose you, Aldera.”
Hawke stepped closer and touched his arm gingerly. “You aren't going to lose me.”
Hope growing again, he reached up to cup her cheek. His magic flowed out ahead of his hand, jumping into her like it belonged. “No mage I've known has ever dared to fall in love. This is the rule I most cherish breaking.”
This kiss he wanted to be less raw. He wanted to show her how much he cherished her. She leaned against him as they carefully explored each other, more sweetly.
When he straightened, his desire held like a timeless pause in the Fade. He looked into her eyes, darkened with desire. Any gift from the Maker for words fled, and he could only stare at Hawke in wonder.
She smiled up at him and stepped backwards, drawing him with her toward the bed and he followed like in a dream.
When the back of her legs hit the bed, she dropped backwards with a bounce and short wail as she lost her footing. Her feet tangling with him, he fell forward and landed on her, feeling the wince as his water bottle whacked her knee.
“Maker! I'm sorry, Hawke.” Even as his arms reached around her, his magic flooded out to heal the mishap.
Her eyes weren't as hazy from lust after she'd been healed, but she giggled. “Maybe you're wearing too much.”
Grinning after another hard kiss, he settled in the cradle of her legs. “Maybe, maybe not.” His hand slipped up under her short hemline and gloried in the skin he felt, his heart beating hard enough to burst out of him as he kept tasting.
Her hands slid lower as well, trying to find the edge of his coat.
Her clever, clever fingers traced up along his leg to the bare skin of his flank and he grinned at the surprise in her eyes. “I didn't say I wasn't good at those games.”
Hawke grinned back and he wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of his life. Her own mix of lust, humor, and affection gave him a feeling of calm. Until she brushed fabric where he was hard and cloth was only in the way.
With that, he nearly tore his coat off until it left them skin against skin where it was most important and delicious.
Hawke looked up at him in challenge. “Prove it.”
He grinned down at her and shifted so she felt his hardness move away and she made a noise. “I thought you were going to ask for something hard... maybe not.” This will be fun.
Hawke yanked him down by his shirt with a bite, impatient too.
-- x --
He woke up in a soft bed alone, half afraid that holding her close as she slept had been another vivid daydream. He looked around and saw Hawke looking at the embers of the fire in the gray light before dawn. Her robe looked rumpled now, but she was smiling at the fireplace.
Rising from the bed, he moved to stand beside her, half-afraid this was only a temporary liaison for her. It wasn't for him. “I love you. I've been holding back on saying that. You should have a normal life, and not be tied down to a fugitive with no future. But I don't ever want to leave you.”
She smiled tolerantly at this speech. Humor glinted as she shook her head the tiniest bit. “Want a sandwich?”
He had to laugh at her ignoring his warning, though she had plenty of practice. “Hawke, you will be an inspiration to generations of romantic poets.”
She tapped his nose and smirked. “I'll leave that to Varric and his stories. With Warden appetites and I hope we have enough food.”
He bent over for another kiss, he wasn't hungry for food yet.
His nagging fear returned because of what she hadn't said. “Not to bring up anything unpleasant, but some Templars were nosing around the clinic yesterday, It's possible I may need somewhere to go in the near future...” He steeled himself. “Would here be an option?”
“Are you asking to move in?” She seemed surprised.
He felt awkward from even asking, was he going too fast? Anything like this had been to fast for him once. “Well, yes. I thought you might appreciate not having to step over the drunkards in Darktown, every time you want to see me. What do you say?” He looked at her, hoping and pleading. He didn't want to throw away what little dignity he had, but he was willing to beg.
Her hands sliding along his arms, she pulled him closer and simply said, “I love you, Anders.”
“Do you mean that? Would you tell the world, the Knight-Commander, that you love an apostate and will stand beside him?” Was this real, or a delusion?
She didn't reply aloud, more than a brief kiss as she pulled him back toward the bed. Instead of lying down, she grabbed blankets and pillows and shoved them into his arms before leading him upstairs. Up on the roof where the sun was just cresting the horizon, she dropped what she carried. Sweet flower scents in the planters nearby filled the clean air on the patio above Kirkwall. A dawn breeze ruffled her loose hair and sunshine lit the sides of the mountains on the horizon. “I want you here with me, until the day we die.”
Dropping what he carried, he pulled her close again to taste sunshine and freedom and Hawke. All he wanted for himself was here, leaving the darkness into air and sunshine with Hawke beside him. He pulled her down with him, frantically helping her spread out the blankets until it was just them holding each other in the fresh air as their heartbeats slowed again.
He lightly brushed her cheek down to her chin, like he had so many hundreds of times in his daydreams. Hawke looked at him with a small smile, as this time his touch ended on her lips.
He wanted to trail kisses all over her again and again, to make her as addicted to him as he was to her. He needed to feel her feel her cry his name, lost in lust. He ached to continue here in the bright negation of his past, but he had one more confession. “For three years, I have lain awake every night aching for you, love. I'm still terrified I'll wake up.”
“That aching was your own fault!” Hawke grinned, but she smacked his arm.
--- x ---
A/N: Chunks of the dialogue are canon, but as ever, this is about Anders' view, not Hawke's. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
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Unresolved Tangles (Through a Glass Darkly 4)