Picking up the pieces
Title: Picking up the piecesCategory: Dragon Age 2
Character(s): Anders & f!Hawke
Words: 1101
Rating: T (I guess)
Summary: Hawke and Anders in the woods, trying to get on.
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything.
She awoke at dawn, when the first birds were announcing the arrival of the new day like it mattered. Her blanket was damp from the morning dew and the smell of eggs made her stomach growl. She automatically reached for him.
“Anders?”
He always awoke before she did, the early rays of sun shattered on the foliage above his head. It promised to be a beautiful day in the midst of all this chaos.
“How's the cut?” The taste of blood and her dry throat dragged her back to reality. He was sitting at the fire, the handsome man with the golden hair and the grave expression to match his moods, tucked away inside a blanket, for the temperature was still behind on the season.
“It's fine,” she replied as she slowly raised herself. But it wasn't, now, was it? It hurt like hell when she got up.
“Andraste's arse,” she cursed. He was about to get up but she gestured him to remain seated. “I'm fine Anders, I am.”
Anders looked like he hadn't slept in ages. His face was rugged, there was some stub on his chin and his eyes were dull. He looked drained. The fact that she had called him by his first name instead of calling him one of his pet names did not fall well.
He wondered if they would ever tear down that wall that he raised between them when he threw her in the middle of this all.
“How are you yourself? Are you alright?” she asked.
He nodded as he got up and handed her his plate of bacon and eggs he had traded his lyrium potions for earlier that week. “There is some coffee too if you fancy it.”
She shook her head, a sting of pain rushed through her skull. Anders seemed to respond to it immediately, she could feel the magic starting to flow inside of him. It always gave him some sort of bewildered look, like that of a caged animal about to break free.
“I dreamed about my mother again,” she replied, ignoring the state he was getting in, yet the display of it brought out a familiar feeling in her, like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.
Magic had been playing a big part throughout her life. Her father had been a mage, as had her sister. She had lost them both to the blight, she was not about to give up her lover to an inner demon he could not control.
“Don't worry about the head, it's fine, I swear to the Gods.”
The expression on his face changed and he calmed down a little, his fingertips stopped glowing. “You don't believe in the Gods...any of them.”
She smiled and the little gesture seemed to reassure him.
“And I'm not worried, I know you can hold your own” he said, “I'm just being careful.”
He came closer, in his hand was a little bowl of water and a piece of cloth. Anders glanced at the bandage around her head. “I will heal the last of it once my manna is restored.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She seemed to back away a little.
The bandage was moist, it needed changing. He feared for an infection. “It's okay, I can do it myself,” she said as she cupped his face. Hawke hadn't want to to pull away from his touch, it was just something she had gotten used to over the last couple of weeks.
“Don't be ridiculous dear. You have the healing skills of an Ogre.”
A silence settled in their little camp while Anders cleaned the cut and Hawke drank her coffee anyway. It was a nasty cut. Anders had to admit he had feared for her life after she went down, drenching the earth in her own blood. He hadn't been able to reach her straight away, fighting his way through the last of the stragglers.
She was looking at the sunlight in his hair while he carefully tended to the wound. The weather did not fit the mood they were in, or last nights events. She had always wondered about that. How men could go to battle on beautiful days like today, smashing each other’s heads in because of the bad temper of a king, or the ill manners of a Grand Cleric, while the sun shone brightly upon the battlefield.
It had been the same yesterday, when their morning swim got interrupted by a couple of Templars, scouts no doubt. The forebodes of a larger group.
“We should be on our way soon,” Anders said as he noticed the worried expression on Hawke's face.
“I cast a few healing spells when you were out but my manna was pretty drained after that last battle.”
“Yes, you were a fucking maniac,” Hawke smiled. “You almost hit me with that ice spell,” she grinned as she filled her cup with water.
“I most certainly did not!”
“Yes you did, you have piss poor aim.”
“Oh really? I seemed to recall this one night when you...”
She turned her head and looked at him in a way that silenced him straight away. “I bet you already regret running off with me right?”
“Every minute of the day,” she smiled. She brushed away a couple of stray hairs, pulled him close and kissed him. It had been a long time since she kissed him like that.
“Just don't go around blowing up any more chantries alright?” He nodded and rubbed her nose with his before resting his forehead against hers.
“Now about that cut,” he said, pulling away and magic already beginning to build up inside of him. Hawke got a hold of his hands and pulled his fingers towards her lips.
“Let's do this the old fashioned way,” she said.
“No magic.”
He looked at her, knowing her well enough to recognize that look of determination in her eyes.
“No magic,” he repeated.
The sun gave him a crown of light as he got up. She watched as he efficiently pulled camp. He was as handsome as much as he was trouble, this rebel mage of hers. But today would just be a beautiful day, with early morning swims, hot coffee and sunburns they would nag about in the evening while they curled together by the fire, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears until they fell asleep underneath the stars.