Who: Hawke & Anders Where: The Beach When: March 16th What: An Actual Date Status: Complete Warnings: N/A
So far, her current day had been going a lot better than the one that had passed. Yesterday she’d been all but convinced her infamous Luck had finally decided it had lulled her into a false sense of security and decided to make up for lost time. Despite not even being either on patrol or on call, she’d still managed to put a crack in her armor, and see her sword ruined, and after a while had just given up and hid. It was always the best option when Hawke Luck struck. But today everything seemed to go well. Better than well.
Which was just a little bit disconcerting, but she was still taking it for what it was. It wasn’t often things went her way.
The note Anders had left her was a bit odd, and he’d also been acting odd for a few days (almost nervous even) but she’d decided to let it be. He generally told her what was bothering him, all he needed was the time for it. And it hadn’t been the easiest these last few weeks. So when she got to where he asked her to go (and not gotten herself lost for one, which was another Weirdly Nice Thing) she looked around. This looked like a rather lovely spot, really, even though she wondered what was going on.
---
Anders was nervous - had been, in fact, since Dan had suggested this stupid plan to begin with, because honestly, what on Thedas did he know about dating? Frantic, fervid trysts in dark corners while the Templars’ attention was elsewhere? Fine. Outrageous flirting with strangers or hired companions? No problem. But Kirkwall had allowed little time for anything approaching a ‘normal’ romance, and he and Hawke had lurched from catastrophe to catastrophe ever since. It was, of course, utterly ridiculous to think that a less-than-perfect date would be the thing that sank a relationship that had weathered the mage-templar war from bloody inception to tentative resolution, and yet something about the whole thing had his stomach tying in ugly, awkward knots, and reduced him to a babbling idiot whenever he considered broaching the topic.
(Justice, for his part, either considered the thing a complete waste of time or highly amusing. Possibly both. Either way, he was no help).
Yesterday - the first clear day since the storms descended - had done little to help his nerves; if anything, it had felt like proof the idea was cursed. Bakeries had burned down, entire stocks of wine had been smashed in freak accidents, and every florist in the city was apparently suddenly infested with some manner of withering or rot or flower-devouring pest. But today felt different, and he’d thrown caution to the winds and… okay, not actually succeeded in asking Hawke to her face, because even Vallo’s formidable natural magic apparently couldn’t counter the power of true love when it came to making men into idiots, but he’d left a note telling her to meet him near the beach whenever she was free.
In retrospect, he should have specified a time. Hell, iIn retrospect, this being Hawke, he should have left a map.
Anders drummed his fingers on his crossed arm as he waited, at the start of the path leading from cliff down towards sand. Lately he’d taken to dressing more like the natives (the garment they called a ‘hoodie’ was a truly wonderful invention, especially the kind with a large central pocket in which Captain could curl) but for today he’d donned his more usual renegade’s garb (ridiculous fluffy feather mantle and all), looking much as he had the very first time they’d met - older, certainly, thinner and somehow more tired (and wasn’t that a terrifying thought, given that in those days he’d been running himself ragged trying to single-handedly cure all of Darktown’s ills?) but similar enough. He hadn’t noticed her, lost as he was in wondering whether she was ever going to show or if this whole thing had been a terrible idea.
--- For her part, Hawke was a bit clueless. Granted it was a bit new to get a note, but maybe he'd found something (not uncommon) that he wanted her to take a look at. Currently, she was hoping it wasn't something that required a blade. And given her purchased armor was a wash, she'd decided on something that fit more into the theme of the place, which was jeans and a jacket. Not that she was defenseless, as was evident with the large dagger strapped to her waist, but she felt oddly less her usual without the heavy plate that was her normal.
When she noticed Anders she paused and smiled. He still looked like he could use a sandwich or twenty and an actual full night of sleep but still her heart tugged towards him. Had since that first time, really. So she took a moment, before moving forward this time so he would see her. “Hey you,” she reached out to kiss his cheek, still wondering. “I actually got here without turning around a dozen or so times. Miracles can occur. Which, given yesterday, is a bit odd.” but a ‘bit odd’ seemed to be the theme for everything. At this point she was rolling with those punches.
“If there’s anything to stab,” she reached out to straighten one of his feathers, old habits dying hard, “I’ve been informed by my healer I ought not to do that without some armor. And however nice these things called jeans look, not armor.” She wrinkled her nose, “which; need a new set of that. Yesterday was awful.” She didn’t relish spending the coin, given that she still held onto some of the notions of holding onto every silver just in case. It was easier when it was for others, just not herself.
---
His relief on spotting her was palpable, his expression breaking into a broad, affectionate grin. “Smart man, that healer, you should listen to him more often.” Catching her fingers with his as she straightened his mantle, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And… wow, yes, those jeans look -you look… incredible. Thank you. For turning up, I mean. I...”
… Andraste’s arse, this should not have been so hard. He swallowed, gaze moving from her face to their interlocked fingers, picking his words carefully. “I was... thinking… and it’s a stupid idea, I know, but humour me here. I was hoping that you might want to… go on a date. A ‘proper’ one. With me, obviously.”
He glanced up, anxious for her response.
--- When he started being nervous she tilted her head. He’d left a note, so of course she’d show up. She didn’t really see why she wouldn’t. But then he continued and everything more or less clicked together. And whereas normally she might make a smart ass comment, or make a truly ill timed joke she did know when not to either. And really, it was rather adorable. All these years later, and he still wondered if she’d say no.
Like she ever could. And still, some of the nerves transferred to her and then changed into butterflies. Had they really ever done something like this? That he wanted to, and was obviously so nervous about it made her only love him all the more. “S’not a stupid idea.” Her voice was soft. “Great idea. I’d love to, obviously.” A smile crept over her and she leaned close. “Is this why you’ve been so squirrely lately? Because I have to say, kind of adorable. So, what are we doing?” ---
It didn't matter how long they had been together, or how many trials they'd endured; there would always be a part of Anders that was waiting for the other shoe to drop and this gorgeous, smart, brave woman to realise quite how far out of his league she actually was. Today, however, was not that day, and he beamed, leaning in to kiss her briefly - "Squirrely, me? Never." - before offering her his arm. "You'll see."
Assuming she took it, he would lead her down the winding cliff path to the golden sand below where two rows of torches (not yet lit) formed an artificial walkway leading to a large plaid blanket beneath a multicoloured umbrella, atop which sat a large wicker hamper and atop that, a bouquet of deep red roses. He had done his research.
--- She smiled into the kiss, thrilled by all of this. Her own past hadn’t been as fraught as his, but until Kirkwall anything permanent, even friendships, hadn’t been possible. So far, this was the nicest thing, and really considering yesterday things could only get better.
Hope did live eternal.
She smirked at his comment, but she didn’t say anything towards it. Instead she took his arm, delightfully charmed, and followed him. When she saw what was waiting she brightened even more. “You didn’t have to. Love it though.” She would give his arm a squeeze before releasing it to sit down. Still smiling she reached out to touch one of the flowers, charmed beyond words. ---
"I know I didn't need to. I wanted to." He took a seat opposite, still smiling (so far, not the flaming disaster he'd feared. Hawke seemed to be enjoying it. Whatever had he been so worried about?). "We don't… It's not been easy, I know. Being hunted, being hated. So since we're stuck here, and nothing is on fire, and it's apparently not normal to go as long as we have without a 'proper date'…"
A beat passed. He leaned over, moving the flowers off the basket and opening the lid,, revealing the picnic within. It was hard to believe yesterday had been such a hideous misfire, given the bounty within - cheeses and cured meats and all manner of fancy crackers to one side, a selection of flaky golden pastries and chocolate-dipped fruit to the other. Two glasses flanking a very fancy bottle of sparkling wine. And in the middle, incogrous amongst all the dainty luxuries, two slices of dark, coarse bread, containing some kind of hard cheese and salted meat. It was this last thing he reached for, offering it to her with a broad, shit-eating grin.
"... fancy a sandwich?"
---- For a moment, Hawke allowed herself to think that if people could just see this side of Anders that they’d realize he wasn’t a lost cause, or full of anger and (ironically) Justice. He still had his adorable, somewhat nervous, moments. The parts of him that had drawn her so. “It’s the sweetest thing. And we decide normal. Not that all this isn’t lovely. I’ve never gotten flowers.” Grinning she picked one up and set it behind her ear. “You should have left clues, I’d have worn something to knock you on your ass.” She gave teasingly.
She took a peek before looking up at his smile. The comment that followed made her laugh. “Never living it down.” Still laughing she still took the sandwich. “I’d love to, thanks.” Almost to prove a point she took a bite. “So, what does one do on a proper date? Besides being charmed?” It wouldn’t really matter if they were hunted, just as long as they were together but it was still nice to do something normal. ---
"Never. Long after we're both dead, the bards will still be singing of the Champion of Kirkwall and her gift for romance."
Her question gave him pause - "I…" - his brow furrowing, an awkward laugh rising in his throat. "I actually have no idea. Enjoy each other's company, I guess? Eat the picnic?"
--- Laughing she shook her head before finishing up the sandwich. But it was fair enough. “Aye, well it isn’t it's a nice night for an evening that’s for sure. But now I can do something for you in turn.” Before it had been either small gifts, or when she knew this would be it inviting him into her home. So something a little between that wouldn’t be the worst. “I’m a fan of food and you eating it.” she gave with a motion to the basket but still took the time to move a little closer. “Alright let’s do the normal thing.” When she’d been looking for things to do with Allison and Dan, she’d found a bunch of things that claimed one thing or the other.
A lot of people had a lot of ideas about these things. Still she straightened and brushed her shirt down before holding out her hand, amusement clear in her eyes. “So hello I’m Marian.” Her grin gave it away though. “Sadly lacking, what was it, a relief of marigolds. I’m sure you’ll forgive me as I’m told I’m very charming.” It wasn’t often she still used her first name, but it seemed like the moment for it. “And I enjoy hitting things with a sharp and pointy stick.” ---
He let out another bark of laughter, this time genuinely amused - "Maker's breath, you're impossible." - before summoning a theatrically serious expression, taking her outstretched hand in an approximation of a formal handshake.
"Hello Marian, it is an absolute pleasure. I'm 'The Weird Mute Boy From The Anderfels' but you can call me Anders for short. I like cats, charming people, and shooting lightning at fools."
Leaning down he pressed a brief, chaste kiss to the back of her hand before letting it go.
"So what brings you this beach?"
--- When he said she was impossible she just winked. It was fun though and they’d earned a bit of that. She was glad enough he was rolling with it. The kiss on the back of her hand made her grin even though she let it drop a bit. “Oh, cats. Well as a loyal Dog Lord that’s a bit, let’s say odd.”
She gave him a very obvious once over, then a wink. “But I can work with it. It’s the feathers. And well I got this note, and look. Handsome person at the end of it so it’s working out very well for me.” Despite everything she couldn’t quite lose the smile. She reached forward to take one of the drinks, pouring him one. “Here,” she gave as she handed him the drink. ---
Anders took the glass, raising it in a small half-salute. "Thank you. You're awfully decent for a-" - he gave a small, theatrical shudder - "self-confessed Dog Lord." - before returning the earlier wink and draining a long measure of the effervescent liquid.
"Other than being wrong about the best animals and hitting things with sticks, what do you do?"
--- “Not wrong,” she added as she poured herself a drink. As per ‘Bela’s oddly adult suggestion she was cutting back but it was a special occasion. “Mabari even traveled with Andraste. So,” she ended it with a grin before leaning back and putting on her best ‘Champion of Kirkwall’ face alongside with the few moments she’d used her title to get something. “Well, firstly I am a lady but my family is very keen on helping others. As such I use my vast skills to fight things that need fighting. Keeping people safe.”
“I even killed a dragon once.” Granted she’d not exactly looked for it or had any sort of fun with it but that wasn’t the point of this. “What about yourself?”
---
"Okay, one, Andraste was… kind of awful, if we're truly honest with ourselves. Big fan of the fight against slavery, not so much of the 'mages are evil' thing. So that's not a point in dogs' favour."
"Two…" - he reached into the hamper with his spare hand, helping himself to one of the small sweet pastries, a spiral filled with spiced sugar and drizzled with icing. "I do… lots of stuff. Mostly running away from Templars. Followed the hero of Ferelden around, for a while. Fought some darkspawn, saw entirely too much of the Deep Roads. Then I - how did the vint put it? 'Shoved a Fade Spirit in my head' and ran off to Kirkwall. Met a lovely woman - they call her the Champion, you probably don't know her - who dragged me into all manner of adventures."
--- “That’s an after,”she gave with a light tone, waving it off. “Besides, cats won’t come look for you if you get lost. Which, given that I do quite often is a bit necessary. So you know. Point there though.” she tilted her head then, going to steal a piece of the pastry. Mostly because she could.
“Heard she has a book. Read it, which was a bit awful really. But hey, adventures. Those are always fun. Had a few of my own. Think my favorites was where I found this very handsome apostate.” she gave him a wink before considering. “Y’know they say talk about things but you know everything.” then she glanced up, “oh. Not even Varric knows this bit. I, am technically a bastard.” The tone in her voice was still amused. “Figuratively to be debated by many I’m sure but I remember my parents' marriage. S’my first real clear one and not because of the event really. That was boring, lots of words. But Mother forced me into this dress that I remember loathing. After, one of the villagers made us this sweet thing that I still haven’t been able to find.” She offered another grin. “You’re sworn to secrecy though. Hope you’re not scandalized.”
---
“By the thought of you in a dress? Horrifically scandalized.” He grinned, though there was a softness to it, a recognition that she’d shared something secret. Hawke wasn’t in the habit of acknowledging the chinks in her armour. “I’m… not. A bastard, that is, though again, the Chantry probably thinks different.”
He sighed, swirling the remnants of his wine before draining the glass. “My father is… devout. As in, ‘would make Sebastian look like a filthy heretic’, ‘probably never even looked at a woman until he was married for fear Andraste would descend and smite him’ Devout-with-a-capital-D. I’m proof he and my mother did the deed at least once, I guess.” He picked at the pastry, tearing off a small segment of the spiral. “He’s the one who told the Templars what I did, when I set the barn on fire? I’m saying ‘is’, I think it might be ‘was’ now. Maker, I hope so.”
Glancing up, he flashed Hawke a less certain smile. “That’s a depressing tangent. Sorry. Tell me more about this awful dress.”
---- When he spoke of his past, specifically his father she tilted her head, listening. Anders didn’t often speak of what came before, and while she knew a few details she never pressed. Even her father had done that, and considering the details she could understand the reluctance. She felt angry and sad on his behalf. She couldn’t imagine hurting Beth like that, or her father when he’d lived. Even Carver, who’d been a tit at times, had never considered the thought of selling out his family like that.
Gently she went to set her free hand on his. “Hope so too then,” she offered gently. She hoped he knew that he’d never again be taken prisoner. They’d have to get through her first. “Family can be what we make of it.” It felt a little cruel to bring up her own parents now, so she didn’t. Instead she just gave him a smile in return.
“I remember it being scratchy. But Mother kept it, because it was the nicest thing I had and then later for the memories. It was this soft pink thing, almost the colour of a sunrise and Mother claimed it looked fetching.” She shook her head, “we lost it when we had to flee from Lothering sadly. Or not sadly or she’d have brought it out at any occasion.” She chuckled to that thought.
---
“I mean, family is you, now, when it comes down to it. No point pretending otherwise, you’re… I guess also Neria, still, and our friends from Kirkwall, maybe some of the rebels? And Captain, obviously, but” - he turned his hand to catch her fingers, squeezing them affectionately - “mostly you.”
It was… odd. Talking about home - his real, original home, and real, original family. It didn’t hurt, exactly, not with the keen and intensely personal pain it had done when he was first at Kinloch; it made him - or rather, them - angry, certainly, but the same sort of angry any mention of the Templars would. There were times it felt like a thing he’d heard about, more than lived through. At any other time it might have worried him, to think that maybe he’d view days like today the same way eventually, but right now, with the light hitting her Just So and no pressing crisis to deal with, such concerns felt ludicrous.
--- Smiling she went to pick up his hand so she could press a kiss to the top of his hand. “And Dane. And Beth.” she gave teasingly, but also affectionately. She’d lost a lot of family over the years, but had gained even more. And yet selfishly, the most important part was him. “But on a more serious notion, aye. You are too. Best part of it.” She leaned close so she could set her head on his shoulder.
“Sometimes I thought about going back to Lothering. Don’t rightly know if there’s actually still a Lothering mind you and I’m fairly sure the old house isn’t standing anymore but maybe there’s something new.” She gave a light shrug because it wasn’t one of those things she really regretted. “But Father’s resting there.” She gave a slight smile and looked up to him. “He’d have liked you. Maker, the amount of debates you’d have alone.” That thought made her grin.
---
“I wish I’d known him.” He shifted in his seat, wrapping an arm around her as she leant against him. The idea that there were apostates in Ferelden who’d had lives, and homes, and actual families was still at least a little mind-blowing. If he’d known someone like Malcolm, perhaps Tevinter wouldn’t have had such a persistent, pernicious appeal. Or perhaps he’d have brought Templars down on the family by accident and, in typical Anders style, fucked everything up forever. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had formed, pressing a brief kiss to Hawke’s temple.
“We could go there - Lothering - if you want? Once the war is done with, and we’ve torn this Solas prick a new one. Go and see what’s become of it?”
----
Content with this, she made herself comfortable in the embrace. “Hm, he’d have wanted the same. He’d have wanted a lot of mages to know him.” It should be normal to her, save all the running, the way she’d been raised. Her father had never wanted more then a normal life. She smiled to the kiss before glancing up at his suggestion.
“That’d be nice,” she was ignoring the obvious part of being stuck here but it was as good a plan as any. As nice as this was, she was never meant for anything normal. “Maybe help it out, if we can.” So far, she’d yet to stop smiling and so went to set one arm around him. “Y’know I kind of like this date thing. Should definitely do it again. And figure out something to do with Dan and Allison. Don’t think they’ll take to being shown around while I defeat whatever bandits are hiding.” Poor Aveline would probably never live all that down.
---
“Do this? Again? Maferath’s nutsack, are you trying to kill me?” His tone was gently amused, the protest entirely theatrics; even with the ordeal yesterday had been, this whole ‘date’ thing had been more than worth the effort. The prospect of a double date was still mildly terrifying - he could not, of course, discount the possibility that they were going about things completely wrong and just didn’t know any better - but all in all? He was chalking this up as a successful experiment.
He flashed her a grin. “I could probably be persuaded. You’ll have to wear a dress next time, though. Something in sunset pink, maybe.”
--- “Am not,” she gave cheerily. “Just keeping you on your toes. Besides, I can plan it next time.” Despite the reputation she had, and one she actively encouraged, she wasn’t a complete disaster with arranging things. The Wicked Grace evenings did speak to themselves. And if she was supposed to do it another way, well she'd never done things conventionally.
She returned his grin, making hers a bit slyer. “Y’see now you’ve challenged me. Because one, I can persuade you. And two I’m going to argue against that colour because there’s no way Mother was correct in her fact but; you are on Serah.” She let her smile turn smug. She wasn’t one for dresses or frilly things, but that didn’t mean she was above it all. And she knew what would look alright on her. “I’ll ask ‘Bela for help.” she added for extra event. ---
“That’s hardly f-” - he caught himself before the protest was entirely out, the instinct to be contrary having briefly trumped a more reasoned assessment of exactly what ‘persuasion’ and ‘Bela’s help’ meant in this context and exactly how much he was likely to enjoy the results - “-no. No, that’s… sure, ask Bela for help. Why not? I look forward to seeing what the two of you come up with.”