Aaaand done! A big, heartfelt thank you to everybody that's supported this story with views, reviews and follows/favourites, I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
Follow on story in the works, so stay tuned!
Hawke made her way through the empty Hightown streets, with nothing to distract her from thoughts she would rather not think.
Samuel had insisted he walk her home, of course, but she had very much insisted otherwise. He was sweet, and quite obviously smitten… but he was not for her… maybe in a few years time?
A vision of Alistair entered her mind, his warm smile and his soft eyes… why hadn't she left with him? Returned home? Back to Ferelden. She could have had all the roses she wanted then.
Of course, she knew why.
And it wasn't anything to do with her mother or Bethany, as much as she had spent the night trying vainly to convince herself that it was.
It seemed so cruel that she had fallen for the one man who seemed intent on avoiding her affections. Of course, he infuriated her at times… but Hawke could always see past that somehow.
She could always see the core of him. The honest, unwaveringly loyal, caring, affectionate core… of course it had taken some time given the elf's very prickly exterior, but that made the effort all the more rewarding.
He wasn't someone who gave his affections or his respect freely. You earned every compliment or complaint, every embrace or rebuke, every word of affection and every word of ire…
Of course what she had done to earn the latter recently, she had no idea. It made her feel cold to be in such doubt, but she had made her choice now.
Hawke gratefully took in the sight of her house as she turned the corner, but frowned as she caught sight of movement. A shadow of a figure outside her front door?
Hawke pushed her back against the wall and tried to conceal herself in the shadows, her hand falling to the blade at her back. Stealth was by no means her strength, but she had her sword to compensate.
An attacker…? A burglar targeting the house? It didn't matter. The bastard would taste steel.
Yet as she crept forward, the figure lingered and eventually sat down on the bench by the bushes. She could make out the silhouette... only the one person.
By all accounts it would be a fairly shitty ambush, and the character seemed too sedentary for a burglar, making no attempt to find other points of entry.
Curiosity bested her caution and Hawke made her way towards the door… although she hesitated to admit it to herself, she was rather enjoying the idea of venting her disappointment on the poor idiot who dared challenge her so openly.
The shadow shrank, seemingly disappearing into the night, and the swordswoman cursed under her breath, with just a little more venom than usual.
He had heard her coming no doubt, and run away.
On her approach, Hawke noticed some wet footprints on the fabric that led to the front door, and a heavier stampede around the centre… almost like someone had been pacing.
She would have to ask Orana to buy a new rug, she thought as she stomped through the door. Normally she would take care to tread lightly on the stairs so as not to disturb her mother, but tonight her steps echoed around the hall until she slammed her bedroom door behind her.
Tonight was different. Tonight she didn't care.
With less tact than decorum allowed, Hawke let her armour slam to the floor where it would remain unmoved for the remainder of the night. She tossed her gauntlets onto the bedside table with little grace and dropped her sword by her bedside with a loud thud.
She cursed Alistair… though she didn't mean it.
She cursed Fenris… though she didn't mean that either.
She cursed herself.
A door shut beyond her room and Hawke's breath hitched. She pursed her lips and slowed her agitated breathing.
She was sure that had been the front door. Someone in the house?
Hawke reached out for the blade but then decided against it. From the all but silent movement downstairs, the intruder was clearly not armoured, and simple burglars were seldom armed.
She would have to be just as stealthy. Isabella hadn't taught her nothing after all.
Hawke crept down the stairs. Her pounding heart muted, her fists clenched and eyes peeled.
She turned her eyes to the entrance of the house.
The figure that sat in the chair before her made her nearly squeak in surprise, but she managed to stifle the sound. She silently congratulated herself on holding her dignity so admirably.
It was certainly a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. By no means an unpleasant one…. The figure rose from his perch as he saw her.
"I have been thinking of you." The white haired elf stalked forwards, eyes locked on her like a hunter on his prey. The intensity of his stare sent butterflies through her stomach. "In fact I've been able to think of little else." Hawke was too taken aback to do anything other than stand, rooted to the spot by a heady mixture of breathless shock and desire, with a strangely exciting hint of fear. She had never seen him so intent. So dangerous. He stopped, his face mere inches from her own, and the weight of his gaze was almost suffocating. Hawke felt her heart pound. "Command me to go and I shall."
She knew she should be angry at him. She knew that her mother would give birth to kittens and that she'd never hear the end of it. She knew that Anders would lecture her until her ears bled. She knew that Bethany would probably be severely unimpressed…
Hawke knew all of these things. And she didn't give a shit.
Their lips met and their bodies pressed together. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other around the back of her neck as he pulled her close, pressing her hard against his chest as if desperate and hungry to hold her as near to him as he could.
That was feeling that the blonde knew well.
Hawke lost herself in the warmth of the kiss, and the strength of his embrace.
…She would deal with her mother in the morning...