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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.

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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 story.
--- x x ---
Kirkwall:
With his waking breath, he lounged in a hazy summer dream before the Blight. The wild, free smell of wood and soil lurked under the soaring sweetness of flowers.
His sleepy mind flipped through a herbal studied at Kinloch. 'Lonicera. Woodbine. Twinberry. Goat's leaf. Honeysuckle. Vining, sometimes poisonous. Not proven useful for healing, slows clotting. Vines used for binding and textiles. Flowers produce sweet, edible nectar...'
As he licked his lips at memories of that sweet nectar on soft lips, a warm weight against his side shifted slightly. He was almost surprised to smell the honeysuckle on Hawke, her head bent over a book where they sat on a sofa in front of the fire's embers. His head clearing, they'd talked about some notes in a mage's journal from the Hawke library.
Those notes were common to any mage's work journal, he didn't have to consider explanations. Still, he'd been tired when he arrived and then dozed off.
You have a duty. This is a waste of your time, our time. Mages like Karl are destroyed every day while you lounge like this.
I do need to sleep.
Then sleep, do not yield to lust.
What lust? Herbs aren't sex.
You desire. Your thoughts were a swamp of those desires even as you woke. Your fingers are splayed against her flesh even now. You are weaker than I'd thought. Justice's voice was full of contempt and the spirit tried to stand.
And I told you fighting outside the Fade takes time and strategy, not a bigger sword. He wanted control over the fractious spirit, paralyzing his own muscles and gripping metal flanges on her armor to hold still.
Angry now, Justice swelled. I will strengthen you to fight. You fail all mages with your weakness.
He'd yanked back some physical control, but he could feel the spirit pulling on his magic too. Magic first, because Hawke had no hope of evading them this close.
As he raced to seal off Fade energy, Justice didn't speak but seized greater control of their muscles.
In the boundless now he was winning and started to relax a little. Suddenly his fingers thrust through armor laces, preparing magic or physical rending. He didn't know which. In fear, he grabbed everything he was back... enough to jump off the sofa.
He stumbled away, glad to feel he had full control again.
Hawke tumbled to the floor as he jumped away, her armor laces looking a little singed. He had trouble breathing on seeing that.
“Anders?” Hawke's green eyes were wide with worry as her tome finished falling over with a loud thunk.
The worry warmed his heart, but her half-step forward with her open hand raised, terrified him.
So he forced an old smile on his face. “I told you I wasn't staying. I never stay the night, it raises too many expectations...”
Hawke rolled her eyes with a tiny smile as if he was joking. “I know better than to have those expectations by now. Relax.”
His heart shrank more because she wasn't listening and Justice was too dangerous.
He didn't want this.
These times were now the best times of his week.
He hardened his voice into something darker, something meaner, hoping to disguise what he really felt. “Sweetheart, it's been fun, letting you cuddle up against me like some stupid kitten about to be dumped in some water barrel. You think I fancy you? Don't kid yourself. I've had mages and farmers and whores, more than I can count. Isabella isn't even among the most beautiful. You're not even that vibrant.”
Her face fell a little, her smile forced. “Is this Justice?”
He laughed, and met her eyes as he jerked his hips. “No, I've got no justice for you. I'm not even interested in your big flange. I expect more than a thug.”
He wanted to apologize right then, but Justice was finally quiet.
Hawke was safe from them both.
Her face blank with surprise at first, all expression melted away as she looked closely at him. “I see. I am sorry to have imposed on your patience. Are you still interested in any paying missions?”
Pretending to think, he gave a flamboyant bow. His stubborn heart started beating again.
Nothing else was said as he gathered his staff and slunk back to Darktown.
Pretending the next several days at his clinic that nothing changed was hard. Every morning he used cooling magic to remove the redness on his face.
He didn't see Hawke, though the storyteller seemed suspicious when gossiping about Hawke and the pirate. He hoped he fooled Varric.
He started writing more: lists, treatises, sonnets, case studies, odes, and manifestos. He destroyed every love letter, every apology, only to write a more polished one days later. The only writing that helped was to educate and advocate for the other mages.
A fortnight later he could again leave his clinic for short periods without panic at the thought of seeing Hawke.
An elven servant from the Blooming Rose pounded on the door late one Tuesday night, panting incoherently about injury and dismemberment. He grabbed his bundle of supplies and raced through dark streets.
The Rose was loud, and a rowdy group played some drinking game. He passed over the busy Serendipity and Isabella.... He almost halted on the stairs when he saw Hawke sprawled over Adriano's lap.
He stopped looking, unwilling to see more. His face felt frozen, still climbing.
When he finished healing the sailor who'd hurt himself with the three-nug special, he prayed that party had ended.
He didn't have that kind of luck and Hawke's eyes met his as she came out of another room. The ice inside him spread when he saw that she moved as if she had been well screwed.
He desperately wished it had been him.
Her face flushed.
He hoped, almost, she caught something so she would visit him.
She looked at the floor.
He turned and left the whorehouse.
--- x ---
A/N: Prompt words are: fancy, factious, and flange. 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)