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Hawke and Anders left Kirkwall as soon as the battle was over. They didn’t even stop by Hawke’s estate to collect any of their things, figuring they could steal necessities along the way. They just wanted to leave. They wanted to get to Tevinter.
The first night out of the city, they spent in blankets they’d stolen from houses that had been abandoned during the fighting. Their lovemaking that night was intense, passion fuelled by need for each other and for something with which to ground themselves after all they’d been through. Eventually they slept, exhausted and spent, and always in physical contact even in their deepest sleep.
The following night they were farther from civilisation and had managed to steal supplies (including a tent!) from an unattended camp. They’d left some silver in the hopes that it would cover the cost of a replacement for the owner and pushed on, crossing a stream to confuse any hounds that might be tracking them and their semi-stolen goods.
In front of the fire that night, warming their feet as their socks hung drying, Hawke couldn’t help worrying. Anders had been quiet the whole evening and barely looked at her. She had tried to engage him in conversation but he would only give her a half-smile and polite, short reply which didn’t allow the topic to go any further, so she had stopped trying. Maybe he just needs some time, she told herself, desperate to help but not knowing how.
Anders had picked at his meal, not eating much and not daring to make eye contact with Hawke. Anxiety bordering on anguish had been eating away at his insides, and he had gotten to the point where he had to say something. Finally, when he could take no more, he placed his bowl on the ground and turned to look at Hawke.
“I need to ask you something,” he said. Hawke, surprised by this very abrupt change, put her own bowl down and, hands in her lap, gave all her attention to the man sitting beside her.
“All right,” she said, and waited.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about us,” Anders began. “You know that I love you, and I know you feel the same way about me. But I also know that there are some things that even love cannot endure.”
“Anders, what are you talking about?” Asked Hawke, trying to keep her own panic at bay. She could see that he was trembling, even though he was barely gesturing or moving as he talked. When he spoke again, his voice was cracking.
“About the Chantry. I deceived you, and yet you asked me to stay with you. I killed innocent people, and yet you’re here with me now. Maker take me, I lied to you to get you to help me, and yet you still share my bed,” he was shivering now, and tears began to roll down his face.
“Why? I don’t understand how you can still want to be with me after all that. Is this something our love can weather, or are we just delaying the inevitable? I need to know, Hawke. Please.”
Hawk felt a pain in her chest. There was still so much they needed to address and work out between them. She thought they’d start once they were safe, far from the Chantry and the Templars, but it clearly needed to begin now. Cradling his face in her hand, she answered his plea.
“I do love you. But you’re right, love is not the only reason I’m here with you.” She paused a moment, and took his hands. “I chose to run away with you because I love you, more than I ever thought it possible to love anyone. But I accept what you did to the chantry because, well, because I believe you were right.”
At this, Anders felt the world spinning around him, like a vortex pulling him into some unknown reality. He was very glad they were sitting down because he was certain that were they not, he’d have fallen to his knees.
“You - I - wait, what?”
Hawke shuffled along the log, sitting a little closer to Anders. “You know when you had me talk to the revered mother, to distract her while you planted your… potion?”
Anders nodded, still in disbelief, and Hawke continued, “Did I ever tell you what was said?”
“No, love. I don’t believe you did.”
Hawke adjusted her position slightly and cleared her throat.
“When I first asked her about the the plight of the mages, and what her stance might be, she told me the usual things about not being able to take sides; you know the script.”
Anders nodded again.
“Well, to buy you more time, I pushed her on it, and what she said to me next, it hit me like a brick. She told me that in this conflict between Templars and mages, it was the people of the city who would suffer for it. I was stunned. I could not help thinking, were the mages not people of the city? Were they not suffering already?”
Anders found his voice at last. “That’s how they see us. We’re not people to them.”
“I’ve always know that,” replied Hawke gently, “I’ve seen how my sister was treated. But I don’t think I ever truly understood just how deeply they believe that, do you understand? Then she said something about how she felt for the mages, and wouldn’t want to be locked in a cell, as though that was the worst of what they go through! Like they’re a wounded animal that needs to be caged lest it lash out and injure itself or its keeper.” Hawke could no longer keep the disgust from her voice at the memory of this exchange.
“When the revered mother gave the usual excuses about not taking sides, I was disappointed but not surprised; I had long ago given up any hope of her showing some backbone and taking a stand. But this! When she said these things, I knew then that whatever you were planning, I would support it.”
Once again, Anders felt himself reeling. “You - you - but …”
Hawke interrupted his non-sentence. “I knew you were up to something suspicious. I knew it was nothing to do with Justice, and figured you had reasons. I understand why you would want to give me as little information as possible. If you had told me, I don’t know what I’d have done. I could never have done it myself, nor can I honestly say I am not disturbed and upset that those people died in the explosion. But at the same time, I know that the chantry would have done nothing, and the war between mages and Templars was inevitable and you were but a catalyst.”
Hawke took a deep breath. She felt better having said all of that. She knew this wasn’t the end of it, and they would need to have many more conversations over the coming months (if not years) before all this could be laid to rest. She did not condone what he had done, but she understood it. She also accepted that what was done, was done, and now they had to look to the future. Hopefully this was the start of a more honest one and with no more sudden and explosive demolitions. But those conversations could happen later.
Anders wasn’t quite sure where he was at that moment. He felt his fear lifting, the elation tempered by humility at the thought that he truly did not deserve the love of such a one as Hawke, and yet she gave it to him freely. After a moment of silence where he swore he felt every emotion known to man or spirit, he reached out for her and kissed her. His tears mingled with hers as they embraced, and Anders broke down into uncontrollable sobs while Hawke held him and cried as well.
Eventually their tears ceased, and they leaned their foreheads together. When they’d calmed down further, Hawke spoke.
“Now, no blowing up buildings once we’re on Tevinter, all right? I’d like to not have to run off in a hurry once we’ve settled in!”
This got a laugh from Anders, which it felt good to hear.
“All right, sweetheart,” he said, “But only because you asked so nicely.”
That night they slept soundly in each other’s arms, feeling hopeful for their future together and looking forward to what the journey would bring.
THE END