[Author’s note: This chapter is written from Anders POV.]
One thing that always amazes me is how Hawke looks a decade younger when he is asleep. The years fall away when he relaxes, erasing wrinkles and loss, leaving him looking like the day I met him. I wonder if he thinks the same of me. Probably not. Sleep is different for a mage. In some ways it is as real a part of our lives as wakefulness. And as filled with danger, temptation and bitey monsters. With Hawke I don’t know what he is dreaming about, but I know one thing; even in the grip of the worst nightmare he is safe. Always safe. It is enough to hug him until he relaxes, never waking, never remembering what haunted him come morning. He is not a mage, and sometimes, despite myself, I am happy for that. I’ve gone through this with Karl and… once is enough.
Karl. The thought of him drives me from our cramped bed. Bunk? Or whatever it is supposed to be. Glorified bench with a blanket?
It’s hard finding clothes in the darkness, but I don’t want to wake Hawke and I don’t want his company. Not now. I do however want his pants, they don’t fit exactly right, but my Tevinter robes doesn’t come with pants because apparently mages in desert climates likes to show a bit of leg and keep their dangly bits cool. Great back there. Not so great out on the sea where the breeze is cold and I run the risk of flashing everybody at the first strong gust of wind. My coat calls to me in the darkness and I pick it up. The feathers rustle quietly and the leather smells comfortingly like an old friend. I had forgotten all about leaving it on Isabela’s ship in Llomerryn, and I’m glad she kept it. One person that had faith I’d be back to collect it. Or maybe she was just too lazy to hawk it. It would probably be worth a bit to the right buyer. A real relic, as worn by the renegade apostate when he blew up the Chantry and started the war. Huh. I wonder if they’ll make replicas of it.
I am reblogging chapter 20 of Act IV:Justice. Why? Because I believe there can be a middle road between having Anders and Fenris hate each other’s guts, and end up in bed. People grow. People change. And sometimes it is easier to talk about things with your rival than your lover…