When Hawke closed the door behind her and turned around, she found her mother waiting by the fireplace. She had a little knowing smile on her face that Hawke was sure that she did not like. She hesitantly walked towards her, petting her Mabari on the head. The dog gave an appreciative woof at her return.

"Did you have a nice time?" her mother asked her, eyes wide in anticipation.

"It was… surprisingly nice," she acquiesced.

"Cullen was always such a sweet boy," Leandra reminisced. "He had such a gentle and kind heart."

"Mother, he's the Knight-Captain," she pointed. "Of the Templars? The people we spent our lives running away from?"

"But you don't have to run away anymore," her mother said. "You're the Champion now, dear, there's power in that title. The Knight-Commander herself exempted you from the Circle. Don't you see?"

Hawke pursed her lips. She did not see and Leandra guessed as much.

"Darling, you need to think about your future," she started.

"Mother," Hawke started to protest but her mother ploughed on.

"I know you have feelings for that apostate boy," she said. "I know he is handsome and kind, and he's a mage too so you share that in common. But maybe you shouldn't tie yourself down to one man just yet."

Hawke opened her mouth then closed it again, at a loss as to what to say.

"But I love him," she blurted out.

"Darling, I know what kind of man he is," she said. "I can see he's on some kind of personal mission and he's not going to stop until it's done. I just… don't want to see you hurt."

She had to sit down. There was no chair in her immediate vicinity so she settled on the carpet. Sirius laid his head on her lap.

"But Cullen, Mother?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Cullen is a good man," Leandra said. "Just spend some time with him. You can still be friends with him. He is Fereldan too, it's good to stick together."

Hawke eyed her dubiously but nodded anyway. She never had the heart to argue with her. Leandra smiled, seemingly satisfied. The next day, Hawke had to see Anders. She brought some food with her because Maker only knew whether that man actually ate anything. She worried about him a lot. It was like he sustained himself on his own willpower. Or maybe it was Justice. She just knew that underneath those layers of rags and feathers, was a very skinny undernourished revolutionary apostate healer.

He smiled at her when she stepped inside the clinic and gave a little wave. She sat by his table and waited for him to finish with his patients. It was the usual sort of routine. Usually she would scribble on the margins of his manifesto, adding her own little thoughts or making silly comments. Sometimes she would draw and he stuck the drawings on the pillar in front of the table, which was rather fully covered by now. She looked at the one she had drawn of him and wondered what he thought when he looked at it. Anders walked towards her, heaving a weary sigh.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" she looked at him.

"Of course not," he smiled instantly. "Seeing you makes everything better."

She hated it when he said things like that but it still made her smile and her heart drum a rhythm.

"I brought you some of my mother's famous Amell stew," she gestured. "Apparently it's a real treat."

"I can't wait to try it," he beamed. "That does remind me, I haven't eaten anything the whole day."

"Anders," she chastised. "You really make me worry."

"I don't mean to, sweetheart," he kissed her cheek.

"Just-" she dragged a nearby stool towards the table. "Here."

He took a seat next to her and she had to suppress a shiver at their close proximity. Maker, she really did love him. She watched him unwrap the container of stew and set aside the bread on the cloth. He fed her a bite and she bit her lip to stop herself from grinning.

"This is heaven," he told her. "Thank you and give my compliments to your mother."

"She'll be delighted to hear that," she smirked. "Cullen was going on about how his mother always tried to recreate it."

"Cullen?" his head snapped up to look at her.

She inhaled sharply at her mistake.

"Please tell me it's not the same person I'm thinking of," he said seriously.

"He was just delivering a letter from Carver," she said quickly. "Mother knew his family back in Ferelden and invited him in for lunch."

"But he's a Templar," he looked at her with wide scandalised eyes.

"I know he is," she looked away. "Mother insisted, I couldn't be rude to him."

"Sometimes you have to put your foot down, Hawke," he said. "He's the enemy, you can't… fraternise with the enemy."

She giggled. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

"Eden."

She sobered quickly. People only ever used her name when they were being serious. She wasn't sure why, it was like an unwritten law she wasn't aware of.

"I thought maybe I could be an ambassador for mages," she told him. "I know you think they're beyond reasoning but… I can try?"

"I suppose you could," he sighed as well. "Just be careful."

"I'm the Champion of Kirkwall," she grinned. "Slayer of dragons and darkspawn."

He plucked her nose with his fingers, making her wrinkle it.

"Stop being cute," he chuckled.

"You actually like it," she teased.

"I do," he smirked and she leaned against him.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her head to lean on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and finished up his food, giving her little spoonfuls as well. In that short moment, she felt like everything was right in the world. She could live in that one moment. They chatted for a while before another patient came looking for him. She invited him to The Hanged Man that night to play Wicked Grace with the others. He usually refused but this time he didn't. She was very pleased.

Hawke went to the tavern after that to look for Isabela. It was already around evening and she liked to get a head start on the drinking. She was a better player like that, it was ridiculously hilarious. She had found herself growing incredibly attached to the pirate captain ever since they first met. They thought alike, like peas in a pod, Varric would call them. She supposed he was right. Isabela took one look at her and frowned, asking what was on her mind. She told her what her mother had said the night before, about Cullen and Anders.

Of course, like everything, Isabela had to make it into a huge innuendo. It did cheer her up considerably though.

"I love Anders," she proclaimed. "I would do anything for him."

"Even slaughter thousands of innocent people?" Isabela asked. "Capture and enslave hundreds of poor innocent elves?"

"When you say it like that," she bit her lip. "You make it sound awful."

"Just be careful when you go around saying things like that, kitten," Isabela pointed. "If you're not prepared for the worst, you shouldn't be making grand promises."

"What if I am prepared, Bela?" she looked at her with wide scared eyes. "Is that horrible of me?"

"I don't think so," Bela's eyes softened. "But if he lets you do all that, then he'd be the horrible one."

"I don't want anyone to be horrible," she sighed. "Maker."

"So tell me about your walk with the Knight Captain?" Isabela leaned forwards. "Did you... play in the sand? Had a little duel amongst the waves?"

"We made sweet love with the sun setting beneath the horizon," Hawke deadpanned.

The older woman's eyes widened.

"Oh, my."

"Bela, really!" she exclaimed. "We just talked about Ferelden and family, and shared stories. That's all."

"But…?"

"But nothing."

"Your face has but written all over it."

"But Mother insists I get to know him better," Hawke finally sighed in defeat. "And I actually did have a good time."

"That's not too bad," Isabela shrugged. "I thought you accidentally stabbed him. Or he accidentally stabbed you."

"Honestly, Bela, I don't want to think about the Knight Captain that way," she cringed.

"Think about the Knight Captain in what way?"

Hawke spun right round she thought her head was going to fly right off her shoulders and across the tavern. Anders cocked his head to the side questioningly.

"I-I-that is…" she sputtered, feeling a blush creeping up her face.

Isabela laughed beside her.

"Oh, nothing, Anders," the pirate smirked. "Just talking about the various techniques of a Templar sword versus an apostate staff."

Hawke looked at her pointedly, biting her lips to keep herself from sputtering incoherently some more.

"Oh, well, we all know who'll win that match," Anders said offhandedly.

"I bet!" Isabela exclaimed as she stood up. "I'm going to wake Varric up from his nap. Be back in a tick."

She slid past him through the door and he proceeded to take her recently vacated chair next to Hawke.

"So Templar swords and apostate staffs?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what either of you are talking about," she lied. "You're here early, so eager to see me?"

"I'm always eager to see you," he smirked.

Ugh, Maker, she just wanted to- she leaned over and pecked the corner of his lips. Oh, great, why did she just do that? She had only had a bottle of wine with Isabela, she could not be drunk already so she didn't have that as an excuse.

"Oh, sorry-" she started to apologise but Anders took her face and pressed his lips fully against hers. It took her by surprise and she swore she forgot how to breathe. He pulled away and looked at her in embarrassment.

"I… uh…" he stuttered. Anders never stuttered, or was ever at a lost of words. He was Mister Comeback, he always knew what to say. Seeing him like this made her heart melt and she pulled his collar, crushing her lips against his. He deepened the kiss, and she could hear their heavy breaths as she felt his tongue with her own. Something inside her stirred and her hand was flying up to his hair when she suddenly heard a chuckle. They jumped apart as if burnt to find Isabela and Varric standing by the door.

"What did I tell you, Varric?" the woman grinned.

"Fine, here's your fifty silvers," Varris grumbled, handing over a small pouch.

"Not interrupting, are we?" Isabela called to the couple.

"No, of course not, Isabela," Hawke replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

"Good girl," she nodded. "You always did like your staffs better."

Hawke groaned and placed her face in her hand.