A Little White Lie: part 2
Title: A Little White Lie - part 2/?
Author: signcherie
Rating: T
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela tell her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
Bethany hated the blasted mountains.
She would never say anything, of course. What they were doing was important. Saemus Dumar’s life hung in the balance. And less importantly, though still very important to Bethany, getting in the viscount’s good graces would give her mother a much better shot at reclaiming the family’s estate.
No, she wouldn’t complain, but Maker’s teeth, her feet were killing her. There was only so much uphill trudging a girl could take.
Hawke and Anders, for their part, didn’t even seem to notice. They were too absorbed in their conversation. Bethany had fallen too far behind to hear them anymore, but she could see the mischievous twinkle in her sister’s eye when she turned to look at the mage. Every so often, Autumn would put a hand on Anders’s arm or bump shoulders with him playfully. Now it was Anders who kept turning interesting shades of red.
Well, at least one good thing came out of this trek. It was almost worth it to watch her sister so at ease with a man.
Isabela sidled up next to Bethany. “I think they may have forgotten all about poor Saemus,” she said. “You and I had better keep an eye out. I think Anders and your dear sister might just trip right over him without even noticing.”
Bethany knew her sister was more capable than that, but she laughed anyway. “Who would have thought that all Autumn needed to become the perfect flirt was to believe she didn’t have a chance?” she mused.
“I would have, kitten. And I was right, too. I told you we did the right thing. Sometimes all it takes is a little white lie.”
-----
It was getting late, but Hawke kept the party pressing onwards down the coast. She didn’t know where exactly Saemus might be, but she knew that time was of the essence. A minute too late might mean the difference between finding him alive or finding him dead--either by the Qunari’s hand or the Winters’.
But when the sun began to dip very low in the sky, and her party was visibly sagging, Hawke knew she couldn’t put it off anymore. “We’d better make camp before we lose all the light,” she said with a sigh.
She was met with audible groans of relief. “About time,” Isabela said, throwing herself down on a rock. “You’re such a slave driver.”
Hawke grinned at her. “And I’m not done yet. Get up, lazybones. We’ve got tents to set up.”
In the end, though, they agreed the tents would be unnecessary on such a clear, warm night and settled for building a campfire. Hawke had brought some provisions, and Bethany cooked a stew over the flames while the others staked out the area to make sure it was safe.
As the last of the sun’s rays began to disappear behind the horizon, they all sat down to eat. Anders took a seat very near Hawke.
Hawke had to admit she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. Her feelings for Anders hadn’t lessened, but then, she didn’t expect them to. It didn’t really matter. She got to be with him all the time. He was kind and sweet, and he looked out for her. Hawke thought, all things considered, that wasn’t a bad deal.
She knew it wasn’t a good idea to think that way, that in the end it would just get her hurt, but she couldn’t help it. If Anders knew that she was secretly still lusting after him, she was sure he’d be horrified. Luckily, she didn’t intend for him to find out.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Anders peered over at her bowl. “Maker’s breath, woman. We’ve been tramping along the coast all day. How are you not starving?”
Hawke frowned. “I’ve got plenty. How much do you expect I can eat?”
“You’ve got to keep your strength up. It’s looking like another long day of walking tomorrow. If you collapse from sheer lack of energy, don’t expect me to heal you.”
“You’ll heal me. What do you think I keep you around for?”
“For my rugged good looks, of course.”
“That, and apparently I need someone to mother me when my actual mother’s not around.” She glanced at Anders’s food. “Andraste’s flaming knickers, Anders. How much food are you eating?”
Anders looked at his fare, then at Hawke. “What?” he said defensively.
“Is that a whole loaf of bread?”
“It...might be.”
“Where do you put it in that skinny body of yours?”
Anders’s cheeks were tinged with pink. “It’s a Grey Warden thing.”
“Of course it is.”
He was definitely blushing. How cute. “And how many Grey Wardens have you known?”
“You expect me to believe all Grey Wardens gorge themselves like this?”
He smirked. “Where do you think the fabled Grey Warden stamina comes from?”
The thought of Anders’s extraordinary stamina made Hawke a bit hot. She forced her mind back to the topic at hand before it could wander too far down that path.
“I don’t know about that,” Hawke teased. “I saw you flagging earlier.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I kept up with you, oh great warrior.”
“You did at that,” Hawke allowed.
The corners of Anders’s eyes crinkled as he glanced sideways at her, a smile playing on his lips.
Hawke’s breath hitched. There was something indescribably suggestive in his gaze. She found herself grateful she was sitting down.
Anders tore off a chunk of bread and held it out to her. “Take it,” he said. “I know you’re holding back to make sure the rest of us have enough.”
Embarrassed, Hawke took the bread from him. How did he always know what she was thinking? She’d been planning to get more after she’d seen everyone else had eaten. “I’m just watching my girlish figure,” she lied, giving him a pointed look. “Something you might want to think about yourself.”
Anders shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, Autumn?” he said softly.
He’d never called her by her first name before.
Hawke hid her grin by taking a bite of bread. Anders didn’t have to know how happy these little moments made her. It was enough that they did.
-----
When the food was gone and the stars were out, Isabela stood up and stretched.
“Do you mind if I take first watch, then?” she said. “I’m a night owl. Won’t be able to fall asleep for hours yet.”
“That works for me,” Hawke answered. “I’m beat.” She rose from her seat and started removing her heavy plate.
It wasn’t as though she was stripping naked--she was wearing padding and undergarments beneath her armor, of course--but Isabela noticed with satisfaction that Anders couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. As for Hawke, bless her heart, she was completely oblivious.
Isabela couldn’t really blame him for staring. Hawke had the kind of curves that made you want to reach out and touch.
Hawke didn’t stop until she was dressed in nothing but a long, sleeveless undershirt. Then she smiled at Anders and touched his shoulder before climbing into her bedroll.
Isabela glanced at Bethany, who was looking mortified. “I give it a week,” Isabela murmured to her co-conspirator. “Tops.”
-----
Anders could not sleep.
He would have liked to say it was because he was concerned for the young man they were trying to rescue, or because he was preoccupied with considerations for his clinic, or perhaps because he was plotting ways to improve the mage situation. There was no denying the truth, however. The only thing keeping him awake was the woman asleep in her bedroll just inches away from him.
He hadn’t realized it before, but he had never seen Hawke when she wasn’t covered by heavy armor. He knew she hadn’t meant to be seductive, that she was just getting comfortable for bed, but watching that armor come off had been more alluring than any purposeful striptease.
He hadn’t known a woman could be so soft and hard at the same time. Her body was athletic; sinewy muscle a tantalizing contrast to smooth curves and unbridled femininity. He’d never touched a woman like her before. The women at the Circle were mages--lovely, but unused to physical activity--and the women outside the Circle...had not been like Hawke. He’d never taken a warrior for a lover.
Now she was there, right within his reach, and there was nothing stopping him from stretching out a hand and touching her. Only a blanket and the flimsy cotton of her shift stood between his fingers and her enticing skin. Would she protest, if he were to take her in his arms, drawing her exquisite body close, savoring the feel of her pressed against his chest? Or would she sigh, lips parting invitingly as he claimed them with all the built-up passion he’d been fighting for so long? Would her fingers tangle in his hair, or would they move lower, sliding underneath his clothing to touch his bare skin....
Anders groaned and turned away in frustration. This was shaping up to be the longest night of his life.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Isabela chuckle.
-----
There was something sweetly appealing about Saemus Dumar.
Hawke found herself drawn to the strength of the young man’s convictions, his firm belief in a better way than the status quo. She wasn’t sure that she herself would choose the Qunari to look up to, but she admired him for his passion against the injustices the Qunari faced.
It was the same quality she admired so in Anders. The problem was, she couldn’t have Anders.
Not that Saemus Dumar was likely to be interested in a Lowtown thug like herself, but that didn’t stop her from considering the possibility. He was handsome, too. His black hair and blue eyes were striking.
He was so young, though. Hawke knew he probably wasn’t much younger than her, but she often felt that experience and tragedy had aged her well beyond her years. Saemus was just taking his first steps out from under his father’s sheltering wings.
Hawke took a step and winced as pain lanced through the wound in her leg. The Winters’ attack had been fierce, droves of them attacking in waves, but it appeared to be over now. Anders was bent over Bethany at the moment, who had taken a nasty blow to the face. Hawke hated it when Bethany got hurt. It made her feel awful for bringing Beth along when she could be safe at home with their mother. But she trusted her sister at her side more than anyone else. They had trained together since they were children and knew each other’s moves like second nature. And when Bethany was with her, Hawke knew she wasn’t being dragged away by Templars.
Anders’s hands glowed blue with healing energy as he worked over Bethany’s injury.
No point in standing around. Using one hand to hold the wound closed and doing her best to mask the pain, Hawke began looting the Winters’ camp, her thoughts returning to her mangled love life.
The nice thing about knowing she didn’t have a shot with Anders was not having to worry about impressing him. She was free to be herself. The not-so-nice thing was that it didn’t make a difference. She just kept on falling harder for him. And while she might be happy now, it wouldn’t last. Eventually Anders would figure out how she felt, and then he would no longer want her around. Or he would meet a man and she would have to watch someone else make him happy.
It would probably be better all around if she moved on sooner rather than later. She just wasn’t sure how.
Maybe she should ask Anders what he thought about Saemus. He liked men--he could give an honest opinion. And bringing up the subject would let him know she wasn’t pining over him or anything. So she wouldn’t have to worry about scaring him away.
-----
Anders approached Hawke quietly. She was kneeling down, fumbling with a chest. He could tell by the way she held herself that she was in pain.
“Maybe you should let Isabela do that,” Anders suggested.
Hawke turned around, bestowing a smile on him as radiant as the sun. “Sneaking up on me, are you?” she said mischievously. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
“Keep both eyes on me,” Anders countered. “I’m incorrigible.” And then, because he knew she would want to know, he said, “Bethany’s injury wasn’t half as bad as it looked. Just a scratch, really.”
“A scratch that bled all over.”
“True, but head wounds tend to be bloody, and hers wasn’t very deep. I doubt she’ll even feel any soreness by tomorrow.”
“That’s good to hear,” Hawke said. “I guess that means I can tease her about taking the lesser of our injuries, then.” Without getting up, she moved armor and fabric to expose a large gash in her thigh. “Take a look at this?”
Anders knelt beside her and probed the wound gently with his fingers. It was much more serious than he’d expected, cutting deep into the muscle. Anders made an involuntary sound of distress low in his throat.
“This is bad,” he said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. Anger at the Winters for hurting her, anger at her for not telling him right away. Anger at himself for not realizing it sooner. “The wound is deep. You shouldn’t have been walking around.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel too bad.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She was covered in blood. Anders tried to ascertain how much of it was hers, but it was hopeless. There was blood everywhere. It had been a nasty battle.
Hawke shrugged. “It’s just my leg. It won’t kill me.”
“It could,” he all but growled. “People die from blood loss all the time. And even if it doesn’t, an injury like this could cripple you for life. There are arteries and tendons in your leg--”
“But I have a healer who can work miracles.”
Anders bit back a groan. “Not if I don’t know you’re hurt.”
With his fingers, he pressed the edges of the wound together, sending waves of healing energy into her body. She had aggravated the wound; he could sense it with his magic. He used his power to soothe the injury, welding tissue and skin back together.
He healed people all the time. Every day in his clinic. But there was something far more intimate about healing Hawke. His hands on her skin, the energy pulsing into her....
“Thank you,” Hawke whispered.
Anders looked up into her eyes. She was gazing at him intently, her eyes full of some unspoken emotion. Her expression made his whole body tingle.
“You’ll tell me next time,” he murmured. “Right away.”
“I promise.”
Anders didn’t want the moment to end. Without even meaning to, he found himself taking her hand. “Autumn,” he said.
But she pulled away. Suddenly all business, she jumped to her feet, testing out her newly healed leg.
“So,” she said conversationally, “what do you think of Saemus Dumar?”
Anders didn’t know what brought on the sudden change in topic, but he went along with it. “He seems to have made it through no worse for the wear.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. What do you think of him?”
Anders frowned.
“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he? He’s got nice eyes.”
Then he got it. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face.
“He...has nice eyes?”
“You didn’t notice? He’s not your type, then?”
“I...is he your type?”
Hawke chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t decide.”
The Dumar boy? What in the Maker’s name could she see in him?
“He’s all wrong for you,” Anders practically choked. “You need someone who can take care of himself. You could never be happy with a man who had to hide behind bodyguards.”
Autumn Hawke and the viscount’s son? He couldn’t even picture it.
And then, probably because it was the last thing he wanted to do, he did picture it. The images rose unbidden to his mind. He saw all the things he wanted to do with Hawke, but with Saemus Dumar in his place. Saemus’s soft, babied hands running over the curves of Hawke’s body. Saemus’s fingers peeling open her clothing and slipping inside, Hawke’s head tilting back in pleasure. Saemus trailing kisses down Autumn’s neck as she moaned...
Anders’s hands balled up in fists.
“You need someone capable. Not a pampered noble who would be appalled at the things we have to do just to survive. Did you see how the battle unnerved him? He’s spent his life locked behind gilded doors. That can’t be what you’re looking for...is it?”
Hawke sighed. “No, you’re right,” she said. “That’s pretty much what I thought, too. I just...I get tired of being alone, you know?”
Anders knew. He knew that if he wasn’t what he was, neither of them would have to be alone. If he were a normal man, he could be the one to chase away her loneliness. He could hold her in his arms as they explored each other with hands and lips and tongues. He would make love to her all night long, slowly, tenderly, until she was trembling in his embrace and gasping his name. And afterwards, he would be the one to lay in her arms, limbs entangled, as she told him all her innermost secrets, every unknown dream and hidden fear. He would listen and stroke her hair and promise her he would always be there for her.
But he was what he was: an apostate and a fool who had let a Fade spirit into his head. Justice was always with him, an inescapable presence in his mind, hard and unforgiving. Anders didn’t know how his story would end, but he knew whatever fate awaited him, it wouldn’t be happy.
He had doomed himself. He didn’t have to take Hawke down with him.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Hawke was saying. “It’s not like the viscount’s son is going to get romantic with a Fereldan refugee.”
For some reason, the idea of Saemus rejecting Hawke made him angrier than anything else. “He’d be a fool to refuse you,” Anders said. “You’re much too good for him. You’re beautiful and strong and...so, so kind....”
Hawke smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “I...guess I’ll get Isabela to take a look at this chest.” With that, she hurried away.
Hawke and Saemus Dumar.
Anders was a Grey Warden. He was used to nightmares.
Now he would have one more.
-----
When Saemus was returned safely to the viscount and both sisters were back in Lowtown, Hawke brought the idea up to Bethany.
“So...what did you think of the Dumar boy?”
“The viscount’s son?” Bethany considered. “He certainly was good looking, but I rather had the impression he was interested in men. What with him running away with a male Qunari and all.”
Horrified, Hawke put her head in her hands. “Maker, I’m terrible at this!”
Bethany laughed and put an arm around her. “Don’t worry, Sister. The right person will come along. For both of us.”
Author: signcherie
Rating: T
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela tell her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
Bethany hated the blasted mountains.
She would never say anything, of course. What they were doing was important. Saemus Dumar’s life hung in the balance. And less importantly, though still very important to Bethany, getting in the viscount’s good graces would give her mother a much better shot at reclaiming the family’s estate.
No, she wouldn’t complain, but Maker’s teeth, her feet were killing her. There was only so much uphill trudging a girl could take.
Hawke and Anders, for their part, didn’t even seem to notice. They were too absorbed in their conversation. Bethany had fallen too far behind to hear them anymore, but she could see the mischievous twinkle in her sister’s eye when she turned to look at the mage. Every so often, Autumn would put a hand on Anders’s arm or bump shoulders with him playfully. Now it was Anders who kept turning interesting shades of red.
Well, at least one good thing came out of this trek. It was almost worth it to watch her sister so at ease with a man.
Isabela sidled up next to Bethany. “I think they may have forgotten all about poor Saemus,” she said. “You and I had better keep an eye out. I think Anders and your dear sister might just trip right over him without even noticing.”
Bethany knew her sister was more capable than that, but she laughed anyway. “Who would have thought that all Autumn needed to become the perfect flirt was to believe she didn’t have a chance?” she mused.
“I would have, kitten. And I was right, too. I told you we did the right thing. Sometimes all it takes is a little white lie.”
-----
It was getting late, but Hawke kept the party pressing onwards down the coast. She didn’t know where exactly Saemus might be, but she knew that time was of the essence. A minute too late might mean the difference between finding him alive or finding him dead--either by the Qunari’s hand or the Winters’.
But when the sun began to dip very low in the sky, and her party was visibly sagging, Hawke knew she couldn’t put it off anymore. “We’d better make camp before we lose all the light,” she said with a sigh.
She was met with audible groans of relief. “About time,” Isabela said, throwing herself down on a rock. “You’re such a slave driver.”
Hawke grinned at her. “And I’m not done yet. Get up, lazybones. We’ve got tents to set up.”
In the end, though, they agreed the tents would be unnecessary on such a clear, warm night and settled for building a campfire. Hawke had brought some provisions, and Bethany cooked a stew over the flames while the others staked out the area to make sure it was safe.
As the last of the sun’s rays began to disappear behind the horizon, they all sat down to eat. Anders took a seat very near Hawke.
Hawke had to admit she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. Her feelings for Anders hadn’t lessened, but then, she didn’t expect them to. It didn’t really matter. She got to be with him all the time. He was kind and sweet, and he looked out for her. Hawke thought, all things considered, that wasn’t a bad deal.
She knew it wasn’t a good idea to think that way, that in the end it would just get her hurt, but she couldn’t help it. If Anders knew that she was secretly still lusting after him, she was sure he’d be horrified. Luckily, she didn’t intend for him to find out.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Anders peered over at her bowl. “Maker’s breath, woman. We’ve been tramping along the coast all day. How are you not starving?”
Hawke frowned. “I’ve got plenty. How much do you expect I can eat?”
“You’ve got to keep your strength up. It’s looking like another long day of walking tomorrow. If you collapse from sheer lack of energy, don’t expect me to heal you.”
“You’ll heal me. What do you think I keep you around for?”
“For my rugged good looks, of course.”
“That, and apparently I need someone to mother me when my actual mother’s not around.” She glanced at Anders’s food. “Andraste’s flaming knickers, Anders. How much food are you eating?”
Anders looked at his fare, then at Hawke. “What?” he said defensively.
“Is that a whole loaf of bread?”
“It...might be.”
“Where do you put it in that skinny body of yours?”
Anders’s cheeks were tinged with pink. “It’s a Grey Warden thing.”
“Of course it is.”
He was definitely blushing. How cute. “And how many Grey Wardens have you known?”
“You expect me to believe all Grey Wardens gorge themselves like this?”
He smirked. “Where do you think the fabled Grey Warden stamina comes from?”
The thought of Anders’s extraordinary stamina made Hawke a bit hot. She forced her mind back to the topic at hand before it could wander too far down that path.
“I don’t know about that,” Hawke teased. “I saw you flagging earlier.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I kept up with you, oh great warrior.”
“You did at that,” Hawke allowed.
The corners of Anders’s eyes crinkled as he glanced sideways at her, a smile playing on his lips.
Hawke’s breath hitched. There was something indescribably suggestive in his gaze. She found herself grateful she was sitting down.
Anders tore off a chunk of bread and held it out to her. “Take it,” he said. “I know you’re holding back to make sure the rest of us have enough.”
Embarrassed, Hawke took the bread from him. How did he always know what she was thinking? She’d been planning to get more after she’d seen everyone else had eaten. “I’m just watching my girlish figure,” she lied, giving him a pointed look. “Something you might want to think about yourself.”
Anders shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, Autumn?” he said softly.
He’d never called her by her first name before.
Hawke hid her grin by taking a bite of bread. Anders didn’t have to know how happy these little moments made her. It was enough that they did.
-----
When the food was gone and the stars were out, Isabela stood up and stretched.
“Do you mind if I take first watch, then?” she said. “I’m a night owl. Won’t be able to fall asleep for hours yet.”
“That works for me,” Hawke answered. “I’m beat.” She rose from her seat and started removing her heavy plate.
It wasn’t as though she was stripping naked--she was wearing padding and undergarments beneath her armor, of course--but Isabela noticed with satisfaction that Anders couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. As for Hawke, bless her heart, she was completely oblivious.
Isabela couldn’t really blame him for staring. Hawke had the kind of curves that made you want to reach out and touch.
Hawke didn’t stop until she was dressed in nothing but a long, sleeveless undershirt. Then she smiled at Anders and touched his shoulder before climbing into her bedroll.
Isabela glanced at Bethany, who was looking mortified. “I give it a week,” Isabela murmured to her co-conspirator. “Tops.”
-----
Anders could not sleep.
He would have liked to say it was because he was concerned for the young man they were trying to rescue, or because he was preoccupied with considerations for his clinic, or perhaps because he was plotting ways to improve the mage situation. There was no denying the truth, however. The only thing keeping him awake was the woman asleep in her bedroll just inches away from him.
He hadn’t realized it before, but he had never seen Hawke when she wasn’t covered by heavy armor. He knew she hadn’t meant to be seductive, that she was just getting comfortable for bed, but watching that armor come off had been more alluring than any purposeful striptease.
He hadn’t known a woman could be so soft and hard at the same time. Her body was athletic; sinewy muscle a tantalizing contrast to smooth curves and unbridled femininity. He’d never touched a woman like her before. The women at the Circle were mages--lovely, but unused to physical activity--and the women outside the Circle...had not been like Hawke. He’d never taken a warrior for a lover.
Now she was there, right within his reach, and there was nothing stopping him from stretching out a hand and touching her. Only a blanket and the flimsy cotton of her shift stood between his fingers and her enticing skin. Would she protest, if he were to take her in his arms, drawing her exquisite body close, savoring the feel of her pressed against his chest? Or would she sigh, lips parting invitingly as he claimed them with all the built-up passion he’d been fighting for so long? Would her fingers tangle in his hair, or would they move lower, sliding underneath his clothing to touch his bare skin....
Anders groaned and turned away in frustration. This was shaping up to be the longest night of his life.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Isabela chuckle.
-----
There was something sweetly appealing about Saemus Dumar.
Hawke found herself drawn to the strength of the young man’s convictions, his firm belief in a better way than the status quo. She wasn’t sure that she herself would choose the Qunari to look up to, but she admired him for his passion against the injustices the Qunari faced.
It was the same quality she admired so in Anders. The problem was, she couldn’t have Anders.
Not that Saemus Dumar was likely to be interested in a Lowtown thug like herself, but that didn’t stop her from considering the possibility. He was handsome, too. His black hair and blue eyes were striking.
He was so young, though. Hawke knew he probably wasn’t much younger than her, but she often felt that experience and tragedy had aged her well beyond her years. Saemus was just taking his first steps out from under his father’s sheltering wings.
Hawke took a step and winced as pain lanced through the wound in her leg. The Winters’ attack had been fierce, droves of them attacking in waves, but it appeared to be over now. Anders was bent over Bethany at the moment, who had taken a nasty blow to the face. Hawke hated it when Bethany got hurt. It made her feel awful for bringing Beth along when she could be safe at home with their mother. But she trusted her sister at her side more than anyone else. They had trained together since they were children and knew each other’s moves like second nature. And when Bethany was with her, Hawke knew she wasn’t being dragged away by Templars.
Anders’s hands glowed blue with healing energy as he worked over Bethany’s injury.
No point in standing around. Using one hand to hold the wound closed and doing her best to mask the pain, Hawke began looting the Winters’ camp, her thoughts returning to her mangled love life.
The nice thing about knowing she didn’t have a shot with Anders was not having to worry about impressing him. She was free to be herself. The not-so-nice thing was that it didn’t make a difference. She just kept on falling harder for him. And while she might be happy now, it wouldn’t last. Eventually Anders would figure out how she felt, and then he would no longer want her around. Or he would meet a man and she would have to watch someone else make him happy.
It would probably be better all around if she moved on sooner rather than later. She just wasn’t sure how.
Maybe she should ask Anders what he thought about Saemus. He liked men--he could give an honest opinion. And bringing up the subject would let him know she wasn’t pining over him or anything. So she wouldn’t have to worry about scaring him away.
-----
Anders approached Hawke quietly. She was kneeling down, fumbling with a chest. He could tell by the way she held herself that she was in pain.
“Maybe you should let Isabela do that,” Anders suggested.
Hawke turned around, bestowing a smile on him as radiant as the sun. “Sneaking up on me, are you?” she said mischievously. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
“Keep both eyes on me,” Anders countered. “I’m incorrigible.” And then, because he knew she would want to know, he said, “Bethany’s injury wasn’t half as bad as it looked. Just a scratch, really.”
“A scratch that bled all over.”
“True, but head wounds tend to be bloody, and hers wasn’t very deep. I doubt she’ll even feel any soreness by tomorrow.”
“That’s good to hear,” Hawke said. “I guess that means I can tease her about taking the lesser of our injuries, then.” Without getting up, she moved armor and fabric to expose a large gash in her thigh. “Take a look at this?”
Anders knelt beside her and probed the wound gently with his fingers. It was much more serious than he’d expected, cutting deep into the muscle. Anders made an involuntary sound of distress low in his throat.
“This is bad,” he said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. Anger at the Winters for hurting her, anger at her for not telling him right away. Anger at himself for not realizing it sooner. “The wound is deep. You shouldn’t have been walking around.”
“Really? It doesn’t feel too bad.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She was covered in blood. Anders tried to ascertain how much of it was hers, but it was hopeless. There was blood everywhere. It had been a nasty battle.
Hawke shrugged. “It’s just my leg. It won’t kill me.”
“It could,” he all but growled. “People die from blood loss all the time. And even if it doesn’t, an injury like this could cripple you for life. There are arteries and tendons in your leg--”
“But I have a healer who can work miracles.”
Anders bit back a groan. “Not if I don’t know you’re hurt.”
With his fingers, he pressed the edges of the wound together, sending waves of healing energy into her body. She had aggravated the wound; he could sense it with his magic. He used his power to soothe the injury, welding tissue and skin back together.
He healed people all the time. Every day in his clinic. But there was something far more intimate about healing Hawke. His hands on her skin, the energy pulsing into her....
“Thank you,” Hawke whispered.
Anders looked up into her eyes. She was gazing at him intently, her eyes full of some unspoken emotion. Her expression made his whole body tingle.
“You’ll tell me next time,” he murmured. “Right away.”
“I promise.”
Anders didn’t want the moment to end. Without even meaning to, he found himself taking her hand. “Autumn,” he said.
But she pulled away. Suddenly all business, she jumped to her feet, testing out her newly healed leg.
“So,” she said conversationally, “what do you think of Saemus Dumar?”
Anders didn’t know what brought on the sudden change in topic, but he went along with it. “He seems to have made it through no worse for the wear.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. What do you think of him?”
Anders frowned.
“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he? He’s got nice eyes.”
Then he got it. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face.
“He...has nice eyes?”
“You didn’t notice? He’s not your type, then?”
“I...is he your type?”
Hawke chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t decide.”
The Dumar boy? What in the Maker’s name could she see in him?
“He’s all wrong for you,” Anders practically choked. “You need someone who can take care of himself. You could never be happy with a man who had to hide behind bodyguards.”
Autumn Hawke and the viscount’s son? He couldn’t even picture it.
And then, probably because it was the last thing he wanted to do, he did picture it. The images rose unbidden to his mind. He saw all the things he wanted to do with Hawke, but with Saemus Dumar in his place. Saemus’s soft, babied hands running over the curves of Hawke’s body. Saemus’s fingers peeling open her clothing and slipping inside, Hawke’s head tilting back in pleasure. Saemus trailing kisses down Autumn’s neck as she moaned...
Anders’s hands balled up in fists.
“You need someone capable. Not a pampered noble who would be appalled at the things we have to do just to survive. Did you see how the battle unnerved him? He’s spent his life locked behind gilded doors. That can’t be what you’re looking for...is it?”
Hawke sighed. “No, you’re right,” she said. “That’s pretty much what I thought, too. I just...I get tired of being alone, you know?”
Anders knew. He knew that if he wasn’t what he was, neither of them would have to be alone. If he were a normal man, he could be the one to chase away her loneliness. He could hold her in his arms as they explored each other with hands and lips and tongues. He would make love to her all night long, slowly, tenderly, until she was trembling in his embrace and gasping his name. And afterwards, he would be the one to lay in her arms, limbs entangled, as she told him all her innermost secrets, every unknown dream and hidden fear. He would listen and stroke her hair and promise her he would always be there for her.
But he was what he was: an apostate and a fool who had let a Fade spirit into his head. Justice was always with him, an inescapable presence in his mind, hard and unforgiving. Anders didn’t know how his story would end, but he knew whatever fate awaited him, it wouldn’t be happy.
He had doomed himself. He didn’t have to take Hawke down with him.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Hawke was saying. “It’s not like the viscount’s son is going to get romantic with a Fereldan refugee.”
For some reason, the idea of Saemus rejecting Hawke made him angrier than anything else. “He’d be a fool to refuse you,” Anders said. “You’re much too good for him. You’re beautiful and strong and...so, so kind....”
Hawke smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “I...guess I’ll get Isabela to take a look at this chest.” With that, she hurried away.
Hawke and Saemus Dumar.
Anders was a Grey Warden. He was used to nightmares.
Now he would have one more.
-----
When Saemus was returned safely to the viscount and both sisters were back in Lowtown, Hawke brought the idea up to Bethany.
“So...what did you think of the Dumar boy?”
“The viscount’s son?” Bethany considered. “He certainly was good looking, but I rather had the impression he was interested in men. What with him running away with a male Qunari and all.”
Horrified, Hawke put her head in her hands. “Maker, I’m terrible at this!”
Bethany laughed and put an arm around her. “Don’t worry, Sister. The right person will come along. For both of us.”