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Claire Hawke rolled over in bed, reaching for someone who wasn't there. As her hand hit the cold sheet, she sighed. Either Anders had woken up very early, or he hadn't come to bed at all. She knew which was more likely.
She grabbed her robe from the chair near the desk and pulled it on, tying the sash around her waist. A quick peek through the curtains showed the sun just beginning to rise, a streak of pink on the horizon over the sea.
When she reached the first floor, she could hear the scratching of Anders's pen. She made her way to where he sat, bent over at the writing desk. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, there you are. I was afraid that I might have to send out a rescue party."
Anders looked up at her, giving her a tense smile. "Good morning, love," he said softly.
"I'm not sure it's actually morning yet," she mused, walking around to perch on the desk. "There's still time to come back up to bed."
He shuffled some papers out from under where she was leaning, frowning at them. "I have to finish writing."
She scoffed. "I don't think you ever actually finish writing. You always find something you want to add, change, or fix." Hawke tucked a strand of loose hair back behind his ear. "Nothing is ever perfect."
"It needs to be perfect. I need everyone who reads it to understand. You know that, Claire. If we are to build a world where our children can be free…"
She picked up a piece of paper that had fallen, holding it in front of him. "You'd actually need to come to bed every once in a while for there to be children, Anders."
He snatched the paper from her, sighing. "I know…I'll come upstairs soon. I promise."
Hawke kissed him on the top of the head as she stood up. "You'd better." She pointed to the desk. "Down here? Paper and sadness." She pointed up the stairs. "Up there? Warm, soft woman, just waiting for you."
He chuckled. "Yes, love."
She patted him on the shoulder, then went back up to bed.
Anders was slumped back in his chair, asleep, when she left several hours later.
"Are you feeling all right today, Hawke?" Merrill asked with concern. "It's only that you're being a little…uh…violent today."
Hawke frowned as she pulled her curved dagger out of a demon's body. It fell to the floor, and she kicked it out of her way. "What are you talking about, Merrill? I'm always violent."
"It's part of her charm," Isabela added. "But Merrill is right, Hawke, you seem so grumpy today."
Hawke grunted as she slashed a second demon's throat with her other dagger. "I'm fine," she said testily.
"Does it have anything to do with the reason I'm here instead of Anders?" Merrill clearly wasn't going to let the subject drop. She was right, however. Usually, she brought Anders if she needed magical backup, but she needed to blow off some steam. Having the person she was angry with tagging along wouldn't exactly help.
Hawke paused to push her hair out of her face. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I came out here to distract myself from my issues. It doesn't really help distract me if I have to discuss them."
Isabela let out a knowing chuckle. "Ooh, Anders is in trouble…"
Hawke looked back over her shoulder, shooting the pirate her best death glare. "Not helping, Isabela."
There were a few unusual things that Hawke noticed when she returned home that night. The first was that she couldn't hear any noise in the house. Usually, Bodahn and Sandal would be talking softly to each other or to Orana, or Spike would be barking happily to welcome her home. She didn't see Spike at all, actually. He normally bounded right up to greet her, his large paws getting mud and dirt on her robes.
The next thing Hawke noticed was the dozens of candles set up around the main room, their combined light almost as bright as the fire roaring in the hearth. Still, the room was filled with their flickering shadows. The smell of the candles mingled with the aroma from the kitchen, scents very different from the spiced Tevinter dishes that Orana usually prepared.
"Welcome home, love," said Anders, emerging from the kitchen.
"What is all this? Trying to woo me back with a burning mansion?" She giggled, and he laughed. She could see the tension in him, the guilt and sadness, and it made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him until he felt happiness again. Instead, she watched as he nodded, sighing.
"I am so sorry for ignoring you this morning, Claire. I feel awful about it, and I want to make it up to you. I sent everyone away for the night. It's just you and me." He stepped closer to her, extending a hand and placing it gently along her cheek.
"I like the sound of that," she said playfully, bringing her left hand up to rest on his hip. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, but stopped when she winced in pain. He stepped back quickly, alarmed.
"You're hurt! What happened, Hawke?" He began to use his hand to feel the injured spot, but she took it in her own and interlaced their fingers.
"I went to take out my frustrations on something I actually wanted to fight," she explained, bringing the guilty look back to Anders's face. "One of them got in a good blow to my ribs. On the bright side, there are now a dozen or so fewer demons on Sundermount to bother us."
He frowned, still distressed. "You got hurt because of me," he lamented. There was something else in his eyes, but she wasn't sure what it meant.
She held up a finger, waggling it at him. "Nuh-uh. I got hurt because of a demon, remember?"
"I should look at it," he informed her, but Hawke shook her head.
"It's a bruise. I've had them before. Whatever you made smells delicious, and I'd like to eat it. Then, I want to take a nice bath, and you may heal me."
He frowned, the worry still on his face. "There's no reason for you to remain in pain any longer than needed."
She leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. "Woo me now; heal me later," she told him when they pulled apart.
"Whatever my lady wants," he gave in, smiling, before kissing her again. He then led her to the kitchen, where meat was cooking in a bubbling sauce. Anders ladled the stew into two bowls, handing one to Claire. They pulled tall chairs up to the counter and ate right there, her shorter legs dangling just a bit next to his longer ones.
When they were finished, Anders led her to the bathing chamber and helped her strip out of her robes as the rune worked to heat the water inside the tub. She winced as they were pulled over her head, and Anders led her to the chair in the corner of the room and knelt before it.
Anders gently ran his hands along the dark mark of the bruise on her rib. "I don't think anything is broken, love. You got lucky."
She gave him an annoyed look. "I told you, didn't I?"
He smiled sheepishly. "You did. I still hate that you got hurt because of me," he said again. "I hate it even more because I can't promise it won't happen again."
Hawke moved her hand to his chin and tilted his head upwards, meeting his eyes with her own. "I'm not glass, Anders."
"I know," he told her sadly. "I'll fix this now." He began to work his magic, the cooling sensation spreading through the bruised skin beneath his hands and reversing the damage. When he was finished, he raised higher up on his knees to gently kiss the newly healed skin, now faintly pink rather than the angry bruise that had been there only moments before. Hawke moved her hand to play with the silky strands of his hair, loosening the tie until it flowed free. She bent down to kiss him, and he responded hungrily.
She stopped, standing up and extending a hand down to Anders. "I think we should get in the tub," she said sweetly. "I'm all sweaty and gross."
"I like that idea," he told her, taking her hand and pulling himself to stand. His knee protested, cracking loudly.
She giggled. "My old man," she teased. "I'm going to have to get you one of those fancy walking sticks someday."
A sudden sadness crept onto his face, and Hawke noticed the shift instantly. She reached out and tapped the end of his nose twice, quickly and gently, to bring him back to her. "Don't get all depressed about it, Anders. I'll buy you a very cute walking stick."
Anders chuckled, but something still seemed off in his demeanor. She walked to the edge of the tub and climbed in. Anders pulled off his clothes and joined her, sitting behind her with his legs on either side of hers. Hawke said a silent word of thanks to whoever had built the tub, set into the floor and large enough for four people. Not that she had ever tried with more than her and Anders, but, in theory, it would work.
She leaned back against him, feeling the comforting warmth of him and the water all around her. She began to scrub them both, and he took over when it became too difficult for her to reach. She relaxed her body into his, and he began to run his hands along her sides. In the water, she was light enough for him to pull her onto his lap easily.
Anders slid his hand between her thighs, touching her gently, and she reached her arm over her head to tangle her long fingers in his hair again. She could feel his length growing harder against her. "Should we go to bed?"
He began to kiss her shoulders as he touched even higher on her thighs. "I'm pretty happy here, love, but if you'd be more comfortable…"
She spun around in his lap, straddling him. "This could be fun," she said with a grin as she kissed him again, both their hands starting to wander. Then his hands grabbed her ass, pulling her closer, and she threw her head back and laughed. "On second thought, yes. Bed now, please."
They left the tub, and Anders wrapped her in one of the large, fluffy towels, taking a second one for himself. They continued to kiss and touch as they stumbled up the stairs and into her bedroom, collapsing on the bed in a tangle of wet limbs and towels. Anders was on his side above her, propped on his elbow. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, brushing a strand of wet hair out of the way. "I love you, Claire. No matter what happens, I want you to know that. My life has been better for having you in it, and I…" He trailed off, and Hawke pulled his hand to her mouth, giving it a gentle kiss.
"I know, Anders," she told him. "I love you too."
When she woke up, Hawke was pleasantly surprised to see Anders still in bed. Back in bed might be more accurate, however, since he was already dressed in a simple tunic and trousers. He was reading, his hair falling loosely around his face as he leaned against the headboard. "Good morning," he told her cheerfully.
She snuggled up against him, resting her head on his thigh. The linen of his well-worn trousers was soft against her cheek. "Good morning."
He put his book down on the bed and began to rub small circles on her back. She was still naked, his touch sending small shivers along her spine. "S'cold," she mumbled.
"You're naked," he told her, pulling the blanket up and tucking it in around her. "You'd be warmer if you had your robe on."
"Don't want clothes, want man," she protested, but she was feeling much better with the blanket enveloping her.
"You have me," he said softly.
"Promise?" Between the warmth of the blanket and her love's gentle touch on her back, she was beginning to drift back to sleep.
"I can't promise you anything, love." His voice was sad, and she nodded against his leg. She knew. With his Warden blood and Justice, he couldn't. "As much as I would want to."
She thought back to those words later that day, with fire and debris raining down around them. She stared at him, seeing the sadness and heartbreak in his amber eyes.
Even later, after the fighting was done and she was huddled against him in the wooden boat, she realized that Anders had been trying to say goodbye to her. He had never expected to survive this day.
He had. They both had.
Now, they would need to find a new life, together.