Unresolved Tangles (Through a Glass Darkly 4)

Subterfuge

He looked at himself in the cracked mirror, seeking some visible mark from his changes and how dangerous he was. He had more wrinkles than before his Joining; he touched smile lines by his eyes, surprised they hadn't been lost from the determination of the spirit within.

Through luck or small miracle, his face was still unmarked, unlike his hidden scars. His robes didn't scream that he was a mage, and he had grown to like his added mobility and ability to be taken as just any other man once in a while. He missed his enchanted and just more handsome robes.

The spirit wasn't pleased at his vanity, but he thought a walking corpse could persuade mortals for a logical and just cause. He knew better but he doubted the ageless Justice could ever really understand that.

Hawke somehow looked cleaner and innocent, despite all that he knew she survived. Smuggler and killer of darkspawn like him, he felt ages older than the few years' difference in their ages.

A deep bell rang through Daektown for work gangs somewhere within, and he realized it was probably time to leave. He'd washed his robes and carefully froze them so they'd evaporate dry, but washing was about all he could do to prepare for Hightown.

Sighing, he'd promised Varric.

His flew up stairways to Hightown, even if he'd feel better with his mage's staff. He could easily defeat a few muggers, but he wanted to fiddle with it when he watched the vine covered facade of the Amell-Hawke estate.

A guardswoman went inside, and when the door opened, he heard music. He closed his eyes and stood under a pergola in the square, afraid of what he might see if he went in: someone worthy. Almost perfectly balanced was his need to see her.

Gathering his will, he entered and saw there weren't that many people present. He knew almost all of them, and relaxed... a little.

Lirene was talking to Leandra and he saw that a few familiar Ferelden refugees were enthusiastically playing instuments in the chamber overlooking the entry hall. Isabela was on the steps, either amusing or pursuing the compatible prince and escaped slave. The merchant Bodahn was telling them how he and his son escaped the Deep Roads when Bartrand fled his own expedition. Even as he watched, an elven smuggler rescued Fenris for a business proposal in another corner discussion.

And Hawke, Hawke was in a lively talk with Aveline and some guards about brigands and qunari around Kirkwall.

Their eyes met and he breathed cleaner air on seeing a flash of her smile.

He could do this, he realized as a lieutenant got Hawke's attention.

Varric entertained Merrill with an embellished version about the fall of Amaranthine, she enthralled by Velanna's feats.

He didn't want to remember the burning and horrendous stench of the dying city and darkspawn that carried for miles. That he didn't want to remember, any more that the burnt flesh after Roland...

He fled through the open door to the next room, and his eyes drank in the sight of the tallest and most filled bookshelves he'd seen in his years since Kinloch. Last time he saw only a fraction of these books in here.

Unable to resist these riches, he sampled each shelf and discovered that he might find a travelogue on the Dales beside an herbal for treating burns. A few times he almost wanted to cry when he found crude quips from the pirate scribbled inside.

Happy to check every book for something he didn't know, he lost track of time until a booming voice said from his side, “Enchantment?”

He must have jumped.

He almost felt like his heart stopped.

“No, Sandal. This is a fine library, but books don't come from the Fade.” Was that his voice squeaking?

Sandal nodded as if he understood. “Not enchantment. Owain gets books collection.”

Hawke's mabari made some dog noise and Hawke followed him into the library. The book could wait.

This time he couldn't breathe because she looked so lovely in the fine feathers of a noblewoman, green embroidered silks and imported cottons.

Neither of them moved, but when he finally took a breath, one thing came out. “Hawke.” He had to look away from her gaze and he realized that the savant and the mabari had gone.

Her voice came lightly. “You found the collection from the shut off parts of the house: attics and cellars. Some are newer than when Uncle lost the place, and Mother shipped some from Lothering. But most are old. I'm a little scared of figuring out old Tevinter big words.”

He smiled gratefully at a bookshelf. “I was admiring the variety. You need to get them organized, or a library has little valu...”

“Are you volunteering?” Hawke's voice wasn't still neutral.

The right answer was like falling off a log and he dallied without thinking, his voice deepening. “Depends on what you're offering...”

Too late his shocked spirit turned to see if she was being serious or flirting like Isabela.

Hawke had moved silently next to him, her eyes held a trace of hope still.

She was so close, she smelled of honeysuckle, wild and free. “What do you want?”

She was so close that he could have done any of a dozen things and he ached to enact his daydreams with her. Of reaching out and crushing her to him, her lips a fine wine.

She was too close and his spirit vibrated with how much her smile was a threat to his cause. That she blocked freedom for all mages by herself.

He was vibrating with his need to touch and need to avoid anything that risky for her.

His movements a losing battleground, his mouth was still free to hint what he wanted. “Only this moment and your safety.”

“Done and done. You'll find something interesting every time.”

He sighed in relief, some things Justice didn't understand.

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A/N: The prompt words are happy, horrendous, and hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia (shorter to say fear of long words), which the last should be taken out and shot for being pretentious.  Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.