Chapter Text
Hawke wished she didn’t have to be quite so sneaky—but as she clearly had no choice (Varric could back her up on that) she was enjoying the moment immensely.
“Oh, look! We came all the way out here and the bandits are already gone!” She gestured at a broken crate, half of a wagon wheel, and a discarded bottle. Varric and Aveline both nodded at her assertion.
“Too bad,” Varric shrugged Bianca. “The old girl was looking forward to some action.”
“Indeed,” Aveline agreed, perhaps a little stiffly. Hawke gave her a quick elbow to the side. “But I mean, that’s good. Because bandits are bad.” Aveline was a terrible actor.
Beside them, Anders furrowed his brow. “Bandits? I thought you’d gotten a tip about slavers.”
Hawke’s jaw clenched, but she recovered before she could scold herself for the slip. “Yes! Slaving bandits. Up to no good. I’m so glad they’re already taken care of.”
“But—” Anders started again, perhaps to point out that a bit of debris on a rocky patch of mountain path was hardly proof that any evil-doers had been around—much less left the area—and Hawke had to interrupt. Time for phase three (or was it four already?) of the plan.
“Thank you so much for all your help Varric, Aveline. I’m sure you’ve got lots of trade-y, guard-y things to do in the city now, so we won’t keep you.”
“We won’t?” Anders echoed, perplexed.
“Always a pleasure, Hawke,” Varric said, and his wink wasn’t obvious at all. “Oh, and I might have a contact come through later, so hand him this, will you?” Hawke accepted the bundle Varric pushed at her and slung it easily over her shoulders.
“A contact?” Anders protested—poor darling, he’d turned incapable of finishing sentences with anything other than question marks. It was really quite endearing.
“Thanks, Varric,” Hawke said, and it was more deeply felt than he could know.
“Stay safe, you two,” Aveline cautioned, exchanging a quick smile and nod with Hawke. She and Varric both turned down the path at a pace that would see them back inside the city walls before nightfall.
“What’s going on?” Anders asked, now with more suspicion lacing his confusion.
“Oh, I have one more thing to do.” Hawke smiled at him, but Anders frowned. “It’s—Bethany read about a local flower that only grows high up in these hills. She wrote me a pretty good description…” At Anders’ crossed arms and raised eyebrows, Hawke sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“You know what is wrong!”
They’d had this discussion already several times as the summer wore on, muggy and hot and creeping through Lowtown and below with feverish tendrils. Many more of the poor were falling sick than usual, even though it had hardly touched any part of Hightown. Hawke had barely seen Anders in a couple of fortnights, and then mostly only when he was asleep or she joined him in his clinic.
“You need a break,” she said, gently.
“No, I need to go back. I can’t leave the clinic unattended without—” Hawke put a hand on his cheek, bristly with unkempt stubble.
“It’s alright,” she said. “Trust me.” At that, Anders seemed to calm, at least enough to listen before pelting off after Varric and Aveline. “I know how important it is, so—I asked Bethany.”
Anders’ eyes widened. Even now, years later, it pained them both in different ways that the Circle had taken Bethany away. “They wouldn’t normally let her out,” Hawke started.
Anders snorted. “So you told them the apostate’s illicit clinic for outcasts in Darktown needed her help?”
Hawke grinned and cocked her head. “I should have tried that! No, I wrote a most heartwrenching note about how the Champion of Kirkwall was taken with the summer grippe, and how her life might be spared only by the immediate tender ministrations of her talented healer sister.”
Anders almost looked impressed - probably holding back because he’d just caught on to the fact that a conspiracy lead by his lover had lured him out here into the high hills on false pretenses.
“Isabela is forging my notes and hopefully not gambling away my estate. And Fenris is making sure nobody causes any trouble for Bethany while she’s tending to everyone at the clinic.”
For a moment, everything hung in the balance—the sun beat down on them, and a mountain breeze stirred the air. Anders was quiet. He could still try to leave of course - Hawke was pretty sure she wasn’t desperate enough to jump him and hold him back. Only almost. Only desperate enough to enlist her friends in a convoluted plot to get her lover to herself for just one night before she went on a stabbing rampage. (She wasn’t quite sure who she’d stab, but those had been Varric’s exact words.)
“You did all that?” Anders asked, gazing at her with an unusual intensity.
“I had help,” Hawke shrugged.
“But all of… this,” Anders’ hand moved to encompass the clear skies and rolling hills and fresh air—two of three which Hawke felt he could use a lot more of. The hills were just a bonus.
“Yes,” she said simply. She’d had words with him about needing a break long ago. Clearly, she’d been right to escalate to action.
“That’s...incredibly nice of you,” Anders said, marveling as if he was just now realizing that Hawke would do anything (anything? anything) to get him. To be with him.
But she didn’t say that, just grinned. “Save that thought until you see how much higher we have to go. Maybe I just wanted to make sure your lovely physique didn’t wither away completely in Darktown.”
Anders caught the mischievous glint in her eye and laughed. “I do like it when you compliment my physique,” he said, falling in beside Hawke as she turned to walk up the path. Already, it seemed to her that his steps were less heavy.