A Little White Lie: Part 8
I'm very excited about this update. Beyond that...perhaps the less said, the better. :D
Thanks to my amazing critique partner/beta aphreal42 , who puts up with me when I make crazy last minute changes--and then change it all back again.
Title: A Little White Lie - part 8/?
Author: signcherie
Rating: M
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Spoilers: possible through middle of act two
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela told her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
Previous chapters are archived here
And the whole thing on the kink meme.
Dear Bethany,
It must be so incredibly dull in the Grey Wardens. I decided I must write to you--because I’m sure that sister of yours isn’t giving you all the juicy gossip.
You should have been in the Hanged Man the other night. This drunken woman decided she wanted to see what a dwarf had to offer and set her sights on Varric. Plunked herself right down in his lap and began trying to pamper his Paragon right there in the bar. I thought Bianca was going to have to make an appearance to defend her man’s honor. But you know Varric. He can talk his way out of anything. Told her all about how brokenhearted he was over his male dwarven lover running away with an elf. She not only backed off, but she bought him a pint before she left. That’s our Varric.
That reminds me. Sadly, not much here has changed in the last three years. Our little project with your sister and Anders? Exactly the same. I can hardly believe it. Hawke still believes that Anders only fancies men, and Anders is still holding out against her feminine charms. Sometimes I think I ought to tell Hawke the truth, but what would I say? More importantly, what would be the point? If Anders hasn’t given in by now, telling Hawke isn’t going to change anything.
Honestly, love, I worry about Anders. Don’t tell anyone, it would ruin my image. But sometimes he’s the same old Anders, and sometimes...he’s just so serious.
I’d feel better if I thought Hawke might be able to move on. But she’s clearly just as head over heels for Anders as she was when you left.
You’re probably wondering why I haven’t written to you before now. The truth is, I have written to you. I’ve written you dozens of letters. I just haven’t been able to send them.
Ah, balls. I’m not fooling anyone with this. Chances are, I won’t be able to send this one either.
I miss you, sweetness. It’s not the same without you here. I can go through my days without thinking about you at all, but you’re always there when I lie down at night. I remember the way you melted under my hands and I can’t believe I’ll never touch you again.
You can tell I’m drunk, can’t you? Shit. This is what comes from letting feelings get into things. I would have thought I’d have a harder shell by now.
Don’t let the darkspawn get near you, sweet thing. I don’t know what I’d do.
-----
Hawke decided that these unending, blasted correspondences were the worst part of being a noble.
She sat at her writing desk, drafting replies to the many notes and invitations she’d received. She was refusing far more invitations than her mother would like, but at least she tried to accept the ones Leandra deemed most important.
No, she corrected herself, this wasn’t the worst part of being a noble, just the part she had to deal with most often. The worst part was actually going to these events and having all the noble pretty boys paraded under her nose. It seemed Leandra couldn’t stop hoping Autumn would settle down and start making grandbabies.
It wasn’t that Leandra disapproved of her. She knew her mother was proud. But she also knew that she had more hopes and wishes for her daughter that just...weren’t coming true. She would be tickled pink if Autumn would just settle down, start a family, and put her adventures behind her.
Hawke supposed she ought to be a little bit grateful for her mother’s matchmaking attempts. She was certainly tired of being alone. She hadn’t had any...male companionship in years. But every man she looked at just--fell short. This one was handsome, but he didn’t have brown eyes the color of amber. This one was charming, but he didn’t have a sidelong smile that crinkled his eyes and made her melt in her boots. This one was a philanthropist, but he hadn’t devoted his whole self to improving the lives of strangers.
Maker, she still had it bad. And it didn’t seem to matter how much she told herself that Anders didn’t want her, that she could never be with him. Her heart was stuck on Anders and refused to move on.
Hawke finished her last note and signed it with a flourish. She hadn’t seen Anders in days, and that always made her nervous. Usually, when he disappeared, it meant he was doing something dangerous for the mage underground. So far, he had always turned up again after a couple of days, no worse for the wear, but Hawke lived in fear of the day when he wouldn’t return. What would happen then? If he was caught, would the templars kill him outright? Or would she go to the Gallows courtyard one day and find him standing there, hollow eyes watching her, a Tranquil brand glaring on his forehead?
She shuddered.
The doorbell rang, and Hawke thanked Andraste for the interruption. She heard Bodahn hurry to the door and stuffed the note she was holding into an envelope.
A moment later, Bodahn returned, saying, “You have company, messere.”
Hawke rose from her desk and turned to see...Lirene.
“This is a surprise,” she said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. Bodahn had already retreated from the room. “Is there some kind of emergency?”
Hawke made weekly donations to Lirene’s cause, but the woman had never come to her home before. Perhaps something had come up that required a greater sum of money and Lirene thought Hawke would be willing to help. Or perhaps Lirene needed someone with influence to take care of a problem.
“It may be an emergency, in a manner of speaking,” Lirene answered. “I’m concerned about Anders.”
Hawke’s heart turned to stone. The blood drained from her face.
“What’s happened to Anders?” she croaked.
Lirene must have noticed her reaction because she said immediately, “He’s not hurt. He’s at his clinic. But one of his assistants came to me. Says they’re all worried about him. He’s apparently shut himself up in his back room and none of them can convince him to come out.”
The woman looked at her feet. “I would have gone myself to try and talk to him, but I don’t think I could do much good. If he’ll listen to anyone, it’ll be you.”
“I’ll go right now,” Hawke said.
-----
Anders was hunched over his manifesto, trying to work out the words. He’d been so inspired while he was writing it the last few days, the phrases flying off his pen like they’d come from the Maker himself. Now, he couldn’t understand what he’d been trying to say.
“Mages deserve no less than the rights every free person in Thedas enjoys. We fly with the same flame.”
What in blazes did that mean? And how could he have written it only two days ago?
He remembered having written it. It wasn’t as though Justice had taken over his body and forced him to write. Justice probably would have made more sense. No, he’d been in a frenzy, certain that the words flowing through his mind were truth in its purest form. Now he could barely decipher what it meant, logical sentences mixed in with seeming nonsense.
He had to fix it, somehow. If only he could make it right, it would mean he wasn’t losing his mind. If he could still write a logical argument, then surely that would prove he was still sane.
Perhaps the most terrifying thing was that this had never happened before. For the last couple of days, he’d been caught up in a fervor that made him feel invincible, certain, right. Now that he’d come out of it, he was more scared than ever.
Anders scratched out the meaningless line and searched his memory, trying to remember what he’d wanted to say. He remembered thinking he’d come up with the most brilliant metaphors, but for the life of him, he no longer understood them.
“Anders?”
His heart stopped beating. He recognized that voice, and Maker, she was the last person he wanted to see him right now.
“Anders?”
“Hello, Hawke.”
“Are you all right?”
“I--I’m fine.”
He didn’t turn around. He was too embarrassed to let her see his face. He just wanted to get this done so it wouldn’t have to plague him anymore.
He heard her footsteps come closer, then hesitate just behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Anders heaved a sigh. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from her.
“I’m writing my manifesto.”
“How long have you been working on it?”
“...a few days.”
“Anders, look at me.”
And because he could refuse her nothing, he did.
Her lovely eyes were wide with worry. It broke Anders’s heart.
“Maker,” she whispered.
Anders really didn’t want to know how bad he must look. Her anxious face broke down all his walls and he let the truth spill out.
“It’s this manifesto,” he said. “I don’t understand the things I wrote yesterday. I thought I was so smart...but it’s all just rubbish. I just want to fix it. I don’t want to leave it like that.”
Autumn’s brows drew together, but she nodded. “I understand.”
Anders felt like such a fool. “You must think I’m--”
“I don’t think that.”
She reached for the papers in front of him, then hesitated. “Can I look at these?”
He gestured helplessly at the pages.
Autumn picked up the top page, scanning it. “I’ll help you, if you want. We can fix it together.”
She ought to be running away from him. She’d caught him at his craziest, but instead of pushing him away, she just...accepted. “Why? Why would you help me?”
She sighed. “Because you don’t abandon the people you...care about...when things get hard for them.”
Anders didn’t know what to say.
Autumn put a hand under his chin, lifting his face, scrutinizing it. “When was the last time you slept?” she asked.
“A few days ago,” he admitted, looking away.
She reached out and touched a strand of his hair. “When was the last time you bathed?”
He was too humiliated to answer.
She took his hand. “Come on,” she said. “Come with me.”
“The manifesto...”
“It will wait. You’ll be able to focus better once you’re clean and rested.”
Because he couldn’t refuse her anything, he allowed her to pull him to his feet. And swayed. Apparently he was more exhausted than he realized.
Autumn caught him.
He was so tired. It made everything feel surreal, dreamlike. Autumn slid her arm around his waist, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wasn’t dreaming her.
“Come on,” she said again.
-----
They didn’t go far. Outside the cellar of her mansion, just a few meters from his clinic doors, Hawke stopped. She looked around surreptitiously--making sure they weren’t being watched, Anders guessed--then drew a key from her pocket and opened the door.
A few minutes ago, all Anders could think about was his manifesto. Now, he scarcely remembered it. The fact that she knew about the nonsense that had come out of his mind and wasn’t horrified by it somehow made it okay to let it go. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about Autumn and how close she was. Her arm was warm and strong around his waist as she led him up the stairs through her cellar. She smelled like flowers. What was that? Some kind of shampoo?
Just being near her like this made him feel calmer. Peaceful. Safer.
He just wanted her. Maker, he was so tired with wanting her. It was so hard, having her right within his grasp and yet still so far away. Sometimes he just wanted to fall into her embrace and never come out.
He still didn’t know how she felt about him, not really. Sometimes he was sure she wanted him, too. He would look at her and see a desire to match his blazing out of her eyes. Maker’s teeth, those moments were hard to resist. But then she would fall back, become friendly and polite once again, and he was left wondering if he’d only imagined anything else.
What must she think of him right now?
“I’m not usually like this,” he mumbled.
“I know that.” She paused. “How often does this happen?”
“It’s never happened before.”
Autumn’s arm tightened around him as she pushed open a door at the top of the stairs. The lanterns and fine carpeting let Anders know they were in the main part of the house now.
“Bodahn!” Hawke called. “Can you hear me?”
From a distance, Hawke’s manservant called back, “Messere?”
Autumn continued leading Anders forward, and soon the dwarven servant appeared in the hallway in front of them.
“Forgive me, messere, I didn’t know you’d come back! And with your friend, too!”
“It’s fine, Bodahn. I have something to ask of you. Could you start a bath for Anders, please?”
“Of course, messere. I’ll start heating the water now.”
“Thank you, Bodahn. Oh--is there any dinner left?”
“Quite a bit, messere. It’s all in the kitchen.”
The dwarf disappeared around the corner.
Anders let Hawke lead him through the twisting corridors and through a door into the kitchen.
He was hit by the smell before he actually saw the food. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. His stomach gurgled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten in days, either.
Hawke led him to a chair.
“Why are you so good to me?” Anders asked helplessly.
Hawke looked at him, baffled. “Because you’re good to me.”
She piled food onto a plate for him, and Anders dug in gratefully.
Autumn ate too, but not very much. Mostly she watched him. It should have made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t. He felt...safe, under her gaze.
When he couldn’t eat anymore, Hawke slid an arm around him and helped him up.
Anders was reasonably certain he could walk by himself, but he wasn’t about to tell Autumn. It felt so good to be held by her, and chances to touch her were few enough. He wasn’t going to waste this one.
Her gentle manner and sweet kindness were lulling him into a state of complete serenity. He felt as though nothing could ever touch him while he was under her care.
-----
This was not nearly as bad as Hawke had feared.
She’d known from the beginning, ever since Anders had told her about Justice, that there would be consequences for what he’d done. That he would have a struggle ahead of him.
Falling into a manifesto-writing frenzy--well, that was scary. But compared to the things she saw in her nightmares, it was relatively safe. It was manageable.
Anders hung his head as she led him up the stairs.
She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to feel ashamed. That she was proud of the amount of control he showed over Justice. That she believed in his ability to keep the spirit in check. And that even if he did lose control, she would still be there to help him.
But she didn’t know how to say all those things. So she just held him a little tighter as she led him through her bedroom and into the bathing chamber.
Bodahn was there, pouring a bucket of steaming water into the large metal tub in the center of the room. Hawke noted with approval that he had used her bubble bath, and the tub was filled with white foam. She sat Anders down on a stool and he obeyed her submissively, saying nothing, just watching her.
She crossed the room to Bodahn. “I know you’re not used to this sort of thing,” she said quietly, “but can you stay and bathe Anders? He’s not well, and I’m afraid he might just pass out and drown himself.”
Bodahn, ever agreeable, just bobbed his head. “Of course, messere. Whatever you need.”
She looked back at Anders. He was still watching her.
“Do you have to leave?” he said and then bit his lip.
Hawke hesitated. He looked so lost.
There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t stay to help him, was there? It would feel unbearably intimate to her, but she knew it wouldn’t really be that way. And he looked so dismayed. How could she leave him in the hands of a virtual stranger when he was so torn apart?
But...to stay and help him bathe? Could she really do such a thing?
Hawke took a deep breath and turned to the dwarf. “Never mind, Bodahn,” she said shakily. “I’ll stay with him.”
Bodahn’s eyes went as wide as saucers, but he bobbed again and left them.
Hawke turned to Anders, and her palms began to sweat. The way he looked at her, it was almost as if...
She turned away and looked at the wall. She was so nervous. “Do you think...can you get yourself undressed?” she asked awkwardly.
“Yes,” Anders replied, his voice husky. A moment later, she heard shuffling noises, and after a bit, the sound of water lapping.
“I’m covered,” he said, and she turned around.
He was in the tub, most of his body hidden by the bubbles. She could see his bare shoulders and chest, a bit of blond chest hair plastered to his skin. His knees poked out of the water. He was still gazing at her intently. Almost like a cat might watch a mouse, she thought, except that no predator ever had that vulnerability in its eyes.
Her legs were like jelly as she walked toward him. She kneeled at the head of the tub, behind him. With her hands, she scooped up water and began to wet his hair.
Anders’s eyes closed. He sank deeper into the tub, his head falling back.
She continued, making sure every strand of hair was wet, watching as the water droplets rolled down the side of his face but taking care not to let any water fall into his eyes. His face was peaceful, serene. It was a breathtaking sight.
When his hair was wet, she poured shampoo into the palm of her hand and began to massage the suds into his hair.
Anders shivered and drew in a breath.
“Are you cold?” Autumn asked.
“No,” Anders answered in a low voice.
It was funny. She’d wanted to run her fingers through his hair for so long, but she’d never imagined it happening like this. She worked the lather through his long locks, running her fingers along his scalp. Anders’s eyes stayed closed, but his lips parted slightly.
She tried not to think about the fact that he was completely naked under all those slippery bubbles, but it was impossible to ignore. This was more of him than she had ever seen. His shoulders were smooth and strong. She ached to run her hands along them, down his chest, sliding them lower in exploration...
She wanted him more than she ever had before. She could scarcely see straight for wanting him.
Her hands began to quiver.
She had to get ahold of herself. Anders was suffering. He needed comfort, not her inappropriate advances. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. He didn’t feel that way about her, and he never would. She needed to face that.
Hawke began to rinse the suds out of his hair.
-----
Anders wanted to stay right here for the rest of his life.
Hawke’s skillful fingers had put him into a trance. He felt as though he had melted bonelessly into the hot water. His entire body was relaxed, tingling.
Well, one part of him wasn’t relaxed. He didn’t think it was possible, as tired as he was, but with Autumn’s magic fingers caressing him--he just couldn’t help it. Blasted Warden stamina.
He was wholly under Autumn’s spell. In that moment, he would do anything for her, give her anything at all that she wanted. Her fingers massaged his scalp, sending chills down his spine.
If she would kiss him now, it would be all over. If she made any move at all, he would be hers. He wanted her with everything that was in him.
But he was too much in her power to move a muscle unless she moved first.
Her hands moved down his neck, trailing lower. They hesitated, trembling.
Maker, please, Anders thought, don’t stop. Please, Autumn.
Her hands withdrew.
“You can do the rest yourself, I hope?” Autumn said, her voice faltering.
Anders couldn’t make his voice work. A moment later, he remembered how to nod.
Autumn stood. “There’s a towel and a robe for you, just here,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’ll be right outside the door. Just say my name if you need anything. I’ll hear.”
And then she was gone.
-----
He stayed in the tub much longer than necessary to get himself clean. He had to wait until his raging erection subsided. He thought about finishing himself off, stroking his hard length with thoughts of her dancing behind his eyes. The temptation was nearly unbearable, but it didn’t feel right somehow, and more importantly, he was still hoping...he was still hoping....
He dried himself with the towel and put on the robe. It was small on him, stretching open across his chest, but it covered everything else, so he supposed it would do.
He pushed open the door to the bedchamber. Hawke was sitting against the wall. When she saw him, she got to her feet. Her warm eyes slid down his body and darkened with something very like desire.
All the time he had spent waiting for his erection to calm down was completely wasted.
But Autumn was already looking away. She came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist and leading him to the bed.
“You can sleep here,” she said. “I won’t be far if you need me.”
She helped him climb into bed. Anders quickly arranged the covers to hide his predicament.
The bed was...amazing. It was softer than anything he’d ever slept on. The sheets were silk and slid tantalizingly against his skin. Was this a guest room, or was it her bed? He imagined how it would be to sleep here every night with Autumn curled up beside him and thought it would be better than anything the Golden City could possibly have to offer.
He really was tired. It was hard to remember it, what with the hunger he felt for Autumn thundering through his body, but suddenly his eyelids were drooping and he thought it might be very hard to stay awake.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmured, half in a fog. “No woman’s ever been this good to me. Not even my mother. Not even Raven, and she was the kindest person I ever met before you. I could have fallen in love with her, I think, if things had been different. But even she was nothing compared to you. I can’t ever deserve you, you know.”
His eyelids drifted shut.
“What?” he heard Autumn say sharply.
He opened his eyes. She was staring at him, a horrified expression on her face.
Anders blinked in confusion. What had he said wrong? Oh. Raven. How stupid was he, bringing up another woman at a moment like this?
“You don’t have to be jealous,” he blundered. “I told you, there’s no competition. No woman I’ve ever been with--no woman or man--has meant to me what you do.”
Autumn didn’t look any less horrified. Her hands flew to her face. She turned away from him, crossing to the window.
This was why he’d never mentioned any of his former lovers around her. He’d been afraid she would get jealous and it would upset her. Judging by her reaction, he’d been right. Maker.
“I’m sorry,” Anders said helplessly. “Don’t be angry with me.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she turned back around.
“I’m not angry. I just--I remembered something I forgot to do. It’s really important. I--I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She hesitated, then in a quick motion, she rushed forward, planted a kiss on his forehead, and ran out of the room before Anders could say a word.
Thanks to my amazing critique partner/beta aphreal42 , who puts up with me when I make crazy last minute changes--and then change it all back again.
Title: A Little White Lie - part 8/?
Author: signcherie
Rating: M
Pairing: Anders/f!Hawke
Spoilers: possible through middle of act two
Summary: Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to loosen up around Anders, Bethany and Isabela told her that the apostate is only romantically interested...in other men.
Previous chapters are archived here
And the whole thing on the kink meme.
Dear Bethany,
It must be so incredibly dull in the Grey Wardens. I decided I must write to you--because I’m sure that sister of yours isn’t giving you all the juicy gossip.
You should have been in the Hanged Man the other night. This drunken woman decided she wanted to see what a dwarf had to offer and set her sights on Varric. Plunked herself right down in his lap and began trying to pamper his Paragon right there in the bar. I thought Bianca was going to have to make an appearance to defend her man’s honor. But you know Varric. He can talk his way out of anything. Told her all about how brokenhearted he was over his male dwarven lover running away with an elf. She not only backed off, but she bought him a pint before she left. That’s our Varric.
That reminds me. Sadly, not much here has changed in the last three years. Our little project with your sister and Anders? Exactly the same. I can hardly believe it. Hawke still believes that Anders only fancies men, and Anders is still holding out against her feminine charms. Sometimes I think I ought to tell Hawke the truth, but what would I say? More importantly, what would be the point? If Anders hasn’t given in by now, telling Hawke isn’t going to change anything.
Honestly, love, I worry about Anders. Don’t tell anyone, it would ruin my image. But sometimes he’s the same old Anders, and sometimes...he’s just so serious.
I’d feel better if I thought Hawke might be able to move on. But she’s clearly just as head over heels for Anders as she was when you left.
You’re probably wondering why I haven’t written to you before now. The truth is, I have written to you. I’ve written you dozens of letters. I just haven’t been able to send them.
Ah, balls. I’m not fooling anyone with this. Chances are, I won’t be able to send this one either.
I miss you, sweetness. It’s not the same without you here. I can go through my days without thinking about you at all, but you’re always there when I lie down at night. I remember the way you melted under my hands and I can’t believe I’ll never touch you again.
You can tell I’m drunk, can’t you? Shit. This is what comes from letting feelings get into things. I would have thought I’d have a harder shell by now.
Don’t let the darkspawn get near you, sweet thing. I don’t know what I’d do.
-----
Hawke decided that these unending, blasted correspondences were the worst part of being a noble.
She sat at her writing desk, drafting replies to the many notes and invitations she’d received. She was refusing far more invitations than her mother would like, but at least she tried to accept the ones Leandra deemed most important.
No, she corrected herself, this wasn’t the worst part of being a noble, just the part she had to deal with most often. The worst part was actually going to these events and having all the noble pretty boys paraded under her nose. It seemed Leandra couldn’t stop hoping Autumn would settle down and start making grandbabies.
It wasn’t that Leandra disapproved of her. She knew her mother was proud. But she also knew that she had more hopes and wishes for her daughter that just...weren’t coming true. She would be tickled pink if Autumn would just settle down, start a family, and put her adventures behind her.
Hawke supposed she ought to be a little bit grateful for her mother’s matchmaking attempts. She was certainly tired of being alone. She hadn’t had any...male companionship in years. But every man she looked at just--fell short. This one was handsome, but he didn’t have brown eyes the color of amber. This one was charming, but he didn’t have a sidelong smile that crinkled his eyes and made her melt in her boots. This one was a philanthropist, but he hadn’t devoted his whole self to improving the lives of strangers.
Maker, she still had it bad. And it didn’t seem to matter how much she told herself that Anders didn’t want her, that she could never be with him. Her heart was stuck on Anders and refused to move on.
Hawke finished her last note and signed it with a flourish. She hadn’t seen Anders in days, and that always made her nervous. Usually, when he disappeared, it meant he was doing something dangerous for the mage underground. So far, he had always turned up again after a couple of days, no worse for the wear, but Hawke lived in fear of the day when he wouldn’t return. What would happen then? If he was caught, would the templars kill him outright? Or would she go to the Gallows courtyard one day and find him standing there, hollow eyes watching her, a Tranquil brand glaring on his forehead?
She shuddered.
The doorbell rang, and Hawke thanked Andraste for the interruption. She heard Bodahn hurry to the door and stuffed the note she was holding into an envelope.
A moment later, Bodahn returned, saying, “You have company, messere.”
Hawke rose from her desk and turned to see...Lirene.
“This is a surprise,” she said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. Bodahn had already retreated from the room. “Is there some kind of emergency?”
Hawke made weekly donations to Lirene’s cause, but the woman had never come to her home before. Perhaps something had come up that required a greater sum of money and Lirene thought Hawke would be willing to help. Or perhaps Lirene needed someone with influence to take care of a problem.
“It may be an emergency, in a manner of speaking,” Lirene answered. “I’m concerned about Anders.”
Hawke’s heart turned to stone. The blood drained from her face.
“What’s happened to Anders?” she croaked.
Lirene must have noticed her reaction because she said immediately, “He’s not hurt. He’s at his clinic. But one of his assistants came to me. Says they’re all worried about him. He’s apparently shut himself up in his back room and none of them can convince him to come out.”
The woman looked at her feet. “I would have gone myself to try and talk to him, but I don’t think I could do much good. If he’ll listen to anyone, it’ll be you.”
“I’ll go right now,” Hawke said.
-----
Anders was hunched over his manifesto, trying to work out the words. He’d been so inspired while he was writing it the last few days, the phrases flying off his pen like they’d come from the Maker himself. Now, he couldn’t understand what he’d been trying to say.
“Mages deserve no less than the rights every free person in Thedas enjoys. We fly with the same flame.”
What in blazes did that mean? And how could he have written it only two days ago?
He remembered having written it. It wasn’t as though Justice had taken over his body and forced him to write. Justice probably would have made more sense. No, he’d been in a frenzy, certain that the words flowing through his mind were truth in its purest form. Now he could barely decipher what it meant, logical sentences mixed in with seeming nonsense.
He had to fix it, somehow. If only he could make it right, it would mean he wasn’t losing his mind. If he could still write a logical argument, then surely that would prove he was still sane.
Perhaps the most terrifying thing was that this had never happened before. For the last couple of days, he’d been caught up in a fervor that made him feel invincible, certain, right. Now that he’d come out of it, he was more scared than ever.
Anders scratched out the meaningless line and searched his memory, trying to remember what he’d wanted to say. He remembered thinking he’d come up with the most brilliant metaphors, but for the life of him, he no longer understood them.
“Anders?”
His heart stopped beating. He recognized that voice, and Maker, she was the last person he wanted to see him right now.
“Anders?”
“Hello, Hawke.”
“Are you all right?”
“I--I’m fine.”
He didn’t turn around. He was too embarrassed to let her see his face. He just wanted to get this done so it wouldn’t have to plague him anymore.
He heard her footsteps come closer, then hesitate just behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Anders heaved a sigh. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from her.
“I’m writing my manifesto.”
“How long have you been working on it?”
“...a few days.”
“Anders, look at me.”
And because he could refuse her nothing, he did.
Her lovely eyes were wide with worry. It broke Anders’s heart.
“Maker,” she whispered.
Anders really didn’t want to know how bad he must look. Her anxious face broke down all his walls and he let the truth spill out.
“It’s this manifesto,” he said. “I don’t understand the things I wrote yesterday. I thought I was so smart...but it’s all just rubbish. I just want to fix it. I don’t want to leave it like that.”
Autumn’s brows drew together, but she nodded. “I understand.”
Anders felt like such a fool. “You must think I’m--”
“I don’t think that.”
She reached for the papers in front of him, then hesitated. “Can I look at these?”
He gestured helplessly at the pages.
Autumn picked up the top page, scanning it. “I’ll help you, if you want. We can fix it together.”
She ought to be running away from him. She’d caught him at his craziest, but instead of pushing him away, she just...accepted. “Why? Why would you help me?”
She sighed. “Because you don’t abandon the people you...care about...when things get hard for them.”
Anders didn’t know what to say.
Autumn put a hand under his chin, lifting his face, scrutinizing it. “When was the last time you slept?” she asked.
“A few days ago,” he admitted, looking away.
She reached out and touched a strand of his hair. “When was the last time you bathed?”
He was too humiliated to answer.
She took his hand. “Come on,” she said. “Come with me.”
“The manifesto...”
“It will wait. You’ll be able to focus better once you’re clean and rested.”
Because he couldn’t refuse her anything, he allowed her to pull him to his feet. And swayed. Apparently he was more exhausted than he realized.
Autumn caught him.
He was so tired. It made everything feel surreal, dreamlike. Autumn slid her arm around his waist, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wasn’t dreaming her.
“Come on,” she said again.
-----
They didn’t go far. Outside the cellar of her mansion, just a few meters from his clinic doors, Hawke stopped. She looked around surreptitiously--making sure they weren’t being watched, Anders guessed--then drew a key from her pocket and opened the door.
A few minutes ago, all Anders could think about was his manifesto. Now, he scarcely remembered it. The fact that she knew about the nonsense that had come out of his mind and wasn’t horrified by it somehow made it okay to let it go. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about Autumn and how close she was. Her arm was warm and strong around his waist as she led him up the stairs through her cellar. She smelled like flowers. What was that? Some kind of shampoo?
Just being near her like this made him feel calmer. Peaceful. Safer.
He just wanted her. Maker, he was so tired with wanting her. It was so hard, having her right within his grasp and yet still so far away. Sometimes he just wanted to fall into her embrace and never come out.
He still didn’t know how she felt about him, not really. Sometimes he was sure she wanted him, too. He would look at her and see a desire to match his blazing out of her eyes. Maker’s teeth, those moments were hard to resist. But then she would fall back, become friendly and polite once again, and he was left wondering if he’d only imagined anything else.
What must she think of him right now?
“I’m not usually like this,” he mumbled.
“I know that.” She paused. “How often does this happen?”
“It’s never happened before.”
Autumn’s arm tightened around him as she pushed open a door at the top of the stairs. The lanterns and fine carpeting let Anders know they were in the main part of the house now.
“Bodahn!” Hawke called. “Can you hear me?”
From a distance, Hawke’s manservant called back, “Messere?”
Autumn continued leading Anders forward, and soon the dwarven servant appeared in the hallway in front of them.
“Forgive me, messere, I didn’t know you’d come back! And with your friend, too!”
“It’s fine, Bodahn. I have something to ask of you. Could you start a bath for Anders, please?”
“Of course, messere. I’ll start heating the water now.”
“Thank you, Bodahn. Oh--is there any dinner left?”
“Quite a bit, messere. It’s all in the kitchen.”
The dwarf disappeared around the corner.
Anders let Hawke lead him through the twisting corridors and through a door into the kitchen.
He was hit by the smell before he actually saw the food. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. His stomach gurgled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten in days, either.
Hawke led him to a chair.
“Why are you so good to me?” Anders asked helplessly.
Hawke looked at him, baffled. “Because you’re good to me.”
She piled food onto a plate for him, and Anders dug in gratefully.
Autumn ate too, but not very much. Mostly she watched him. It should have made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t. He felt...safe, under her gaze.
When he couldn’t eat anymore, Hawke slid an arm around him and helped him up.
Anders was reasonably certain he could walk by himself, but he wasn’t about to tell Autumn. It felt so good to be held by her, and chances to touch her were few enough. He wasn’t going to waste this one.
Her gentle manner and sweet kindness were lulling him into a state of complete serenity. He felt as though nothing could ever touch him while he was under her care.
-----
This was not nearly as bad as Hawke had feared.
She’d known from the beginning, ever since Anders had told her about Justice, that there would be consequences for what he’d done. That he would have a struggle ahead of him.
Falling into a manifesto-writing frenzy--well, that was scary. But compared to the things she saw in her nightmares, it was relatively safe. It was manageable.
Anders hung his head as she led him up the stairs.
She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to feel ashamed. That she was proud of the amount of control he showed over Justice. That she believed in his ability to keep the spirit in check. And that even if he did lose control, she would still be there to help him.
But she didn’t know how to say all those things. So she just held him a little tighter as she led him through her bedroom and into the bathing chamber.
Bodahn was there, pouring a bucket of steaming water into the large metal tub in the center of the room. Hawke noted with approval that he had used her bubble bath, and the tub was filled with white foam. She sat Anders down on a stool and he obeyed her submissively, saying nothing, just watching her.
She crossed the room to Bodahn. “I know you’re not used to this sort of thing,” she said quietly, “but can you stay and bathe Anders? He’s not well, and I’m afraid he might just pass out and drown himself.”
Bodahn, ever agreeable, just bobbed his head. “Of course, messere. Whatever you need.”
She looked back at Anders. He was still watching her.
“Do you have to leave?” he said and then bit his lip.
Hawke hesitated. He looked so lost.
There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t stay to help him, was there? It would feel unbearably intimate to her, but she knew it wouldn’t really be that way. And he looked so dismayed. How could she leave him in the hands of a virtual stranger when he was so torn apart?
But...to stay and help him bathe? Could she really do such a thing?
Hawke took a deep breath and turned to the dwarf. “Never mind, Bodahn,” she said shakily. “I’ll stay with him.”
Bodahn’s eyes went as wide as saucers, but he bobbed again and left them.
Hawke turned to Anders, and her palms began to sweat. The way he looked at her, it was almost as if...
She turned away and looked at the wall. She was so nervous. “Do you think...can you get yourself undressed?” she asked awkwardly.
“Yes,” Anders replied, his voice husky. A moment later, she heard shuffling noises, and after a bit, the sound of water lapping.
“I’m covered,” he said, and she turned around.
He was in the tub, most of his body hidden by the bubbles. She could see his bare shoulders and chest, a bit of blond chest hair plastered to his skin. His knees poked out of the water. He was still gazing at her intently. Almost like a cat might watch a mouse, she thought, except that no predator ever had that vulnerability in its eyes.
Her legs were like jelly as she walked toward him. She kneeled at the head of the tub, behind him. With her hands, she scooped up water and began to wet his hair.
Anders’s eyes closed. He sank deeper into the tub, his head falling back.
She continued, making sure every strand of hair was wet, watching as the water droplets rolled down the side of his face but taking care not to let any water fall into his eyes. His face was peaceful, serene. It was a breathtaking sight.
When his hair was wet, she poured shampoo into the palm of her hand and began to massage the suds into his hair.
Anders shivered and drew in a breath.
“Are you cold?” Autumn asked.
“No,” Anders answered in a low voice.
It was funny. She’d wanted to run her fingers through his hair for so long, but she’d never imagined it happening like this. She worked the lather through his long locks, running her fingers along his scalp. Anders’s eyes stayed closed, but his lips parted slightly.
She tried not to think about the fact that he was completely naked under all those slippery bubbles, but it was impossible to ignore. This was more of him than she had ever seen. His shoulders were smooth and strong. She ached to run her hands along them, down his chest, sliding them lower in exploration...
She wanted him more than she ever had before. She could scarcely see straight for wanting him.
Her hands began to quiver.
She had to get ahold of herself. Anders was suffering. He needed comfort, not her inappropriate advances. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. He didn’t feel that way about her, and he never would. She needed to face that.
Hawke began to rinse the suds out of his hair.
-----
Anders wanted to stay right here for the rest of his life.
Hawke’s skillful fingers had put him into a trance. He felt as though he had melted bonelessly into the hot water. His entire body was relaxed, tingling.
Well, one part of him wasn’t relaxed. He didn’t think it was possible, as tired as he was, but with Autumn’s magic fingers caressing him--he just couldn’t help it. Blasted Warden stamina.
He was wholly under Autumn’s spell. In that moment, he would do anything for her, give her anything at all that she wanted. Her fingers massaged his scalp, sending chills down his spine.
If she would kiss him now, it would be all over. If she made any move at all, he would be hers. He wanted her with everything that was in him.
But he was too much in her power to move a muscle unless she moved first.
Her hands moved down his neck, trailing lower. They hesitated, trembling.
Maker, please, Anders thought, don’t stop. Please, Autumn.
Her hands withdrew.
“You can do the rest yourself, I hope?” Autumn said, her voice faltering.
Anders couldn’t make his voice work. A moment later, he remembered how to nod.
Autumn stood. “There’s a towel and a robe for you, just here,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’ll be right outside the door. Just say my name if you need anything. I’ll hear.”
And then she was gone.
-----
He stayed in the tub much longer than necessary to get himself clean. He had to wait until his raging erection subsided. He thought about finishing himself off, stroking his hard length with thoughts of her dancing behind his eyes. The temptation was nearly unbearable, but it didn’t feel right somehow, and more importantly, he was still hoping...he was still hoping....
He dried himself with the towel and put on the robe. It was small on him, stretching open across his chest, but it covered everything else, so he supposed it would do.
He pushed open the door to the bedchamber. Hawke was sitting against the wall. When she saw him, she got to her feet. Her warm eyes slid down his body and darkened with something very like desire.
All the time he had spent waiting for his erection to calm down was completely wasted.
But Autumn was already looking away. She came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist and leading him to the bed.
“You can sleep here,” she said. “I won’t be far if you need me.”
She helped him climb into bed. Anders quickly arranged the covers to hide his predicament.
The bed was...amazing. It was softer than anything he’d ever slept on. The sheets were silk and slid tantalizingly against his skin. Was this a guest room, or was it her bed? He imagined how it would be to sleep here every night with Autumn curled up beside him and thought it would be better than anything the Golden City could possibly have to offer.
He really was tired. It was hard to remember it, what with the hunger he felt for Autumn thundering through his body, but suddenly his eyelids were drooping and he thought it might be very hard to stay awake.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmured, half in a fog. “No woman’s ever been this good to me. Not even my mother. Not even Raven, and she was the kindest person I ever met before you. I could have fallen in love with her, I think, if things had been different. But even she was nothing compared to you. I can’t ever deserve you, you know.”
His eyelids drifted shut.
“What?” he heard Autumn say sharply.
He opened his eyes. She was staring at him, a horrified expression on her face.
Anders blinked in confusion. What had he said wrong? Oh. Raven. How stupid was he, bringing up another woman at a moment like this?
“You don’t have to be jealous,” he blundered. “I told you, there’s no competition. No woman I’ve ever been with--no woman or man--has meant to me what you do.”
Autumn didn’t look any less horrified. Her hands flew to her face. She turned away from him, crossing to the window.
This was why he’d never mentioned any of his former lovers around her. He’d been afraid she would get jealous and it would upset her. Judging by her reaction, he’d been right. Maker.
“I’m sorry,” Anders said helplessly. “Don’t be angry with me.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she turned back around.
“I’m not angry. I just--I remembered something I forgot to do. It’s really important. I--I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She hesitated, then in a quick motion, she rushed forward, planted a kiss on his forehead, and ran out of the room before Anders could say a word.