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Hawke has never known Alistair to be so chatty, but when it comes to Solona, he never shuts up. Not that Hawke minds (what else is there to do in an abandoned bandit den in place that never stops raining?) … even if he occasionally has to bring in some reality to his cousin-in-law’s ramblings.
“We were thinking of purchasing property; starting a farm,” Alistair says whimsically, eyes distant as he smiles. “We’ll have plenty of fresh air. Solona can start the herb garden she always wanted. The mutt can have room to run around. We’ll raise some cows so I’ll always have fresh cheese … and I’ve always wanted to grow roses too.”
Hawke sets down his tome with a chuckle. “You know I lived on a farm. It’s not as idyllic as you make it sound.”
Alistair laughs himself. “Well, when you spent most of the past 10 years underground fighting darkspawn, anything can be idyllic.”
Hawke concedes the point with a “hm.” Alistair’s gaze grows soft again, his voice loving as he murmurs, “We just want to live outside, where the soil is fertile … And make green things grow.”
Hawke smiles at that, before he’s thinking of all the ways he’s going to teach his cousin how to actually farm. It’s an amusing thought—he really doesn’t see Solona having the patience for it—but he looks over when Alistair asks, “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” Alistair says as he sits forward in his chair. His grin is wry. “What ridiculous and improbable idyllic life do you dream about for you and your Anders?”
Hawke almost snorts at that. He’s lived on a farm, in a mansion, in a sewer, on the road … What would idyllic even look like for Anders and him?
But he already knows the answer. “I’m already living the idyllic life,” he says, and Alistair lifts an eyebrow in quiet disbelief. Hawke gives him a soft smile of his own. “Wherever Anders is, it’s enough for me.”
It’s Alistair’s turn to snort. “Romantic,” he teases.
“Says the man who wants to grow roses,” Hawke shoots back, and Alistair laughs.