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It had been an arduous thing getting up Sundermount and even worse getting back down again. Why Hawke had asked Aveline to accompany her to that damned mountain was beyond imagination. Aveline misliked that mountain and Hawke knew.
Ever since the first time she found herself there she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something unnatural about it. She felt unwelcome, not only by the Dalish, but by the mountain itself. Some old magic was at work there, of that she had no doubt. She knew nothing of magic and she’d keep it that way if she could help it.
What Aveline did know was that she wanted to get off this mountain and back to Kirkwall as soon as possible. They had run into some spiders on their way down, however, and Maker knows taking down those creatures leaves you covered in ichor and that stuff stinks.
They had set up camp long before sundown so they could hopefully find a stream and wash away the worst of it. Isabela and Merrill had their turn first and as soon as they returned to camp, Aveline and Hawke headed off to bathe.
Aveline suggested they take turns, with one bathing and the other standing guard, but Hawke waved a dismissive hand, saying if they bathed together it’d save them time.
Maker, she wanted to be done with this, head back to camp and get some rest more than she wanted to argue.
They undressed in silence. Hawke was the first to enter the water with Aveline on her heels. The stream was about waist-deep and the water was cold, almost unpleasantly so. Aveline was not trilled at the prospect of tense and sore muscles the next day. A hot bath after a long day of swinging a sword was usually the only way for muscles to relax.
Hawke kept her back respectfully turned, granting each other a bit more privacy as they bathed—she was considerate when she wanted to be.
Aveline turned and started scrubbing. Her hands had never been particularly gentle and it didn’t help that the bristles of the brush were stiff and rough. For a moment she recalled Isabela saying she had man hands. Her temper flared and she scrubbed at her skin harshly.
Hawke made a disapproving sound as she came into view. “You’ll scrub your skin off if you keep at it like that,” she said in a berating tone.
Aveline was about to argue when Hawke took the brush from her startled hands. The movement drew attention to her breasts and Aveline’s eyes fixed on them for a few seconds before she averted her eyes. It wasn’t as if she had not seen naked women before, but Hawke was a friend and she should not stare.
“You must be gentle, you see. Here, I’ll show you,” said Hawke and moved to stand behind Aveline.
Aveline felt very self-conscious of her nakedness all of a sudden and thought she had gone red all over. Or that the blood had drained from her face. Or both.
Hawke ran a palm up Aveline’s back and over her shoulder, finally coming to a stop at her arm. The guard captain felt a shock shot through her at the contact. She assumed that’s what being hit by a mage’s lightning bolt would feel like, but Hawke was no mage. Perhaps it was the cold of the water or a sudden breath of air that caused her to shudder involuntarily.
Just then, Hawke squeezed her fingers around Aveline’s bicep. “You’ve got very strong arms, Aveline.”
“Lots of training, Hawke,” she replied matter-of-factly. Her face and neck felt hot, yet she could not discern why.
“I’ll bet,” the other woman said and Aveline could hear the smirk in her voice.
Hawke started scrubbing at Aveline’s back gently and the guard captain felt herself relax somewhat. Hawke removed her hand from Aveline’s arm and smoothed it over her hip. Aveline was so acutely aware of the touch, she thought her throat had gone dry.
After a few moments, Hawke leaned in and said in a whisper, “See? That’s how you do it.”
Aveline could feel Hawke’s breath on the back of her neck and gooseflesh rose on her arms. She struggled to find her voice.
She heard a splash of water and Hawke came into view again. Her eyes were drawn to the brunette’s breasts once again, and again she looked away.
“Thank you, Hawke,” she said, finding her voice at last. It felt strange thanking her for something like that and yet what else could she do?
“It’s no problem, really,” she replied with an almost nervous edge to her voice. She lowered her eyes and when she looked up again, her eyes were soft and uncertain and she was biting her lip.
Aveline’s eyes fell to Hawke’s mouth and she wondered what it’d feel like if their lips were to press together. She took a steadying breath as discreetly as she could manage.
Hawke moved closer and brushed a loose strand of wet red hair away from Aveline’s eyes, tucking it behind her ear. Her touch lingered and Aveline found she couldn’t, didn’t want to move. Maker, they were looking each other in the eye and Aveline could swear she had not seen Hawke look at her this way before.
Suddenly, Hawke moved her hand away and the world that had halted when they touched, seemed to move around them again.
“We should finish up,” Hawke declared a little too loudly. She turned her eyes skyward. “Sun’s almost setting.”
Aveline looked up and sure enough the sky was starting to turn orange. How did she not notice before? They hurried to finish and soon they were dressed and walking hurriedly back to camp.
She chanced a few looks at Hawke on their way back, but her expression was unreadable. The silence between them was not helping either. Not that talking like nothing had happened was going to help. Had something happened? Aveline thought so. Or perhaps something could have happened. Perhaps it was her imagination playing tricks on her. No, that wasn’t likely.
“Hawke! Aveline!” Merrill exclaimed as soon as they entered the camp. She and Isabela were sitting by the fire. Aveline and Hawke approached them. “You were gone for so long I thought you ran into trouble. Oh, did you have a nice bath? The water was a bit cold, wasn’t it?” Merrill rambled on as she was wont to do and Hawke answered all her questions.
Aveline sat at the other side of the fire so as to be as further from Hawke as possible. Perhaps it’d be best if they put some distance between them—literally.
Isabela was sitting on her left, sharpening her daggers, while Hawke seemed engrossed in conversation with Merrill. “Are you alright, big girl?” the pirate asked, her tone almost sympathetic. Aveline could hardly believe it.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked in return, hoping she sounded nonchalant enough so that she wouldn’t be questioned further. She was determined not to so much as glance at Hawke until this conversation was over, so she looked at the scant shrubbery about them instead.
Isabela shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you got a twig up your ass while you were out there.”
“Shut up.”
“And she’s back.”
Aveline had to fight back a smile.
Hawke drew first watch. Good—Aveline could use some time with her thoughts. She didn’t get any time to think, however, because she fell asleep as soon as she got in her bedroll.
A few hours before dawn, it was time for Aveline’s watch. She got out of the tent she shared with Hawke, fleetingly thinking of what had happened at the stream, and went to relieve Isabela. The Rivaini didn’t bother to smother her yawns as she stumbled towards her shared tent with Merrill.
It was still dark as Aveline sat waiting for the first rays of sunlight. The mountain air was cold and the mountain itself seemed even more uninviting when shrouded in darkness. Nights on Sundermount brought back memories of children exchanging scary stories in the dark; but she was a child no longer. Whatever came, she would face it head on. The night had been quiet so far, however; she did not see why it shouldn’t remain that way.
She took out her dagger and began sharpening it. There was no sense in wasting time, and besides, weapons needed all the maintenance they could get.
There was something calming about sharpening a blade. For a warrior, it was both habit and ritual. For a guard captain it was also duty. It was the absence of focus and yet its maintenance.
And it made room for thought.
Aveline did not want to think about Hawke or the way she had touched her or looked at her. On the other hand, perhaps it would be better to think about it now and get it over with.
And so she did.
She recalled Hawke’s gentle touch and teasing words and it was enough to make her face tingle with embarrassment. Was it embarrassment? She wasn’t sure and she despised that. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it was intense and one she could not articulate.
Aveline set her dagger and whetstone aside and thought of Hawke’s eyes, of the way they had looked at her when Hawke had brushed some hair out of her face. Her gaze had been open, honest, hesitant, vulnerable. Hawke never looked at her like that; she didn’t know the rogue to look at anyone like that.
The sky had begun to lighten.
She was somewhat ashamed to admit she caught herself thinking of Hawke’s breasts, which was quite unreasonable. It wasn’t as if she had not seen other women’s breasts before. Aveline had breasts too, but she rarely thought about that.
Hawke’s breasts were different; they were small, yes, but proportionate to the rest of her body. Maker, they looked soft. Aveline wondered what it may feel like to knead them with her fingers or run her tongue over a nipple. Andraste help her, she shouldn’t think of Hawke that way; she was not a piece of meat.
Then she thought of when Hawke bit her lip and how Aveline had wanted to lean down and kiss her. Her lips would be soft too, she reckoned. She imagined kissing Hawke as if she had all the time in the world, how their lips would move together in unison, much like how they moved around each other in battle—never getting in the other’s way, yet always fighting together.
Aveline had always called her Hawke. She’d mentioned her first name once, long ago; before they came to Kirkwall. Bethany was the only one among them who called her by her first name, being family and all. Hawke was a good name, yet it was not as intimate as a first name. Hawke called her Aveline, always had.
She wondered what it may be like to call Hawke by her given name, to whisper it against the rogue’s skin. She tried it now. The name rolled off her tongue effortlessly and the breeze carried it away.
Aveline was smiling.
Sunlight broke over the horizon and shed new light on Aveline’s heart.