Chapter XXVII

In Conclusion

A/N: Added to the ending a little bit for more clarity.

Hawke stayed very still, wanting to run but her legs would not obey her. They felt heavy and individualized, no longer a working unit that used to get her out of uncomfortable situations like this. What was he playing at? If Aedan had an end game she could not imagine what it was and considering the raunchiness of her latest dreams imagination was not a thing she lacked.

"Do you want to run that by me again?" Hawke asked in a voice that cracked like a child's.

Aedan looked suddenly weary. This was not a dance he had meant to partake in yet; he had hoped to eat first. "I meant with your permission. I want to court you. And I must confess I am not practiced at it, though my mother made sure that I learned the basics. Flowers and such. Jewelry. Though for you, perhaps, some new boots...Antivan leather, I've been told is-"

"You're joking," she accused the man that rarely joked. "I've just been kicked out of Ferelden. I sold my estate to a mercenary so he'd murder a man that was only indirectly involved with my mother's death." She stopped to take a breath. "You've seen my magic, my real magic. What it is. I'm not exactly a catch, blue-blood."

"Are you saying you wish me to stop?"

"I'm saying you need to get your mind examined. All that darkspawn blood you lot chug must finally be getting to you." She stretched suddenly, tugging helplessly at the laces that ran down her chest. "Why is this so bloody tight? I can't think with this thing on."

There was no way there was any correlation between those two things. Aedan would have offered to help loosen her corset but feared it would be taken out of context. Or hoped it would be. He plowed on earnestly. "I asked a question and while we all enjoy your daily blathering on I need an answer. A straight forward answer." Aedan didn't move any closer but he did tun to the side so that he was no longer blocking the doorway. "I do intend to court you, but if you wish that I did not I will stop this now. I don't want a question in return, Marian. I want your permission. I want you to want me. Whether or not you deserve a flood of bouquets arriving at your door is irrelevant."

Her laugh was broken. "I don't even have a door for you to send them to."

"Marian," he said softly and while only slightly irritated.

"I suppose," she spoke slowly, letting the words find themselves, "you can send them to the Hanged Man. But Varric's going to write about this and I won't be able to stop him-"

He did move towards her then but she flinched away like a nervous filly. Aedan thought she might have even kicked like one had he not halted his advancement. They were going to be late for dinner if this continued on its current path. In particular it was a path to nowhere, with stops and bends for Hawke's self-deprecating montages. "Marian, we don't have a lot of time together," he began, knowing he had to make his point now or never. "You're going back to Kirkwall. I'm going back to Vigil's Keep and then possibly the Deep Roads. Before we separate I want to make a few things perfectly clear. I want you. I want to write you. Now, if I'm getting in the way of something I'll back off. And I'm not asking you to wait for me. Just asking that you read what I send you. If that seems permissible to you then-"

She huffed, cutting him off with a solid, "Talk common. I'm not in the mind to decipher your flowery words."

That was certainly a new accusation, especially coming from a woman. "Then let us take a walk."

"Outside?" Her voice clipped halfway through the word. "We'll freeze to death."

"You'll keep me warm."

"That's likely. All the snuggling in Thedas isn't going to do shit against a Ferelden winter."

"I meant with magic."

"Oh. That is likely."

They went to the ramparts and buried themselves in a corner. Hawke quickly summoned a solid blue flame to battle the winter cold, but there was nothing to be done with the winds. As blistering cold as it was, there was something about being able to see the land for miles around them being blanketed in deep, undisturbed snow. She could scarcely hear Aedan's voice over the howling winds even with his mouth nearly tickling her right ear.

"I don't want you to feel pressured. I want to be your friend. Well, I want more than that but I need that at a minimum." His breath was warm. "May I write you? I know we'll be far apart and perhaps because of our separate duties we may never meet again. But I have seen many friends leave and I have always regretted not working harder to preserve our friendship." He regretted more than that. He wanted to follow each of his companions after the blight, to see Par Vollen, to watch Leliana try to change the Chantry, to help Zevran destroy the Crows...But he could not be pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Hell, he couldn't be moved in the direction of his own flesh and blood. And Aedan knew with Hawke he may be made to make the same decision. To choose his perceived duty over adventure or happiness. But one day there might not be a need to make that choice. Or there may be a time where he could choose differently.

He could almost even convince himself of that, especially with Hawke's mouth moving slowly against his own.

"It's cold out here," she said when she pulled away.

He held her hands and blew warm air into them, trying to rub life back into her fingers at the same time. "It's always cold here. You're going to have to get used to that when you come back."

Her laughter was quiet. "You said there was no pressure, blue-blood."

"There's no pressure, but I may make a few suggestions now and then."

They had missed dinner and had to resort to eating a cold, quick meal in the kitchen. But with Hawke sitting on the counter, filching dried fruits and chocolates and telling him about the time she and Varric stole an Orlesian noblewoman's pet bird and taught it to say "Long live King Alistair", Aedan couldn't have imagined a better meal. They ate and then Hawke followed him back to his room, ripping off her corset halfway there.

Aedan worked on stoking the fire while Hawke shimmied out of her skirts and resorted to wearing some of his old clothing. She had to walk around with one hand holding up her breeches which was endearing in an odd sort of way.

She fell asleep almost immediately. She hadn't said much before bed. Aedan watched her write down very carefully a few different ways to contact her in Kirkwall.

It was hard to sleep next to someone again. Every now and again Hawke would roll over and head butt him. Somehow she would remain asleep despite the head trauma they were both suffering. But forgetting the bumps and bruises, Aedan slept well. Better than he would have without her.

The morning was quiet. He sent for new clothes for her and after they dressed they had breakfast alone. Hawke, like always, handled most of the conversation. She told jokes and kissed him and stole his bacon when she thought he wasn't looking. It was hard to let that last one slide but Aedan couldn't recall the last time someone had made him intentionally laugh so much.

They had to part for most of the day. Hawke and her friends had arrangements to finalize regarding their journey home. Aedan helped with repairs around Cousland Castle. They spent meals together and the nights together, feeling a crazy sense of certainty though nothing at all was settled.

There was a ship docked in Amaranthine waiting to take Hawke and her companions home. Isabela and Fenris were already on board. Even more awkward than spending the past few nights together was saying so suddenly farewell. Aedan and a few of his family's remaining guards escorted them to the docks. Hawke suspected that Aedan had adorned his full Warden armour just to give her the grandest image of him to remember.

It was very noble of him. Hawke swallowed the laughter erupting due to her own pun and threw her arms around him despite the pounds of armor separating them.

Aedan caught her with a startled laugh, they kissed, and Varric made a noise very similar to a choking darkspawn. The warden whispered something to her that made even Hawke blush before they parted.

Hawke knew that her journey home would be filled with Varric's incessant questioning and his perverted need to know all details of her life. She obliged only because she knew if she let him fill in the blanks she'd have been rumored as the new Lady Cousland before the day was done. The one thing she wouldn't tell her best friend was the words Aedan had left her with. Those were for her and her alone. In a life void of privacy, she wanted that sentence for herself.

The journey home was uncomfortable but ultimately meant nothing. It was the arrival that was important. Would there be a Templar greeting for her, heading by none other than Meredith? Or would there be something even worse?

The docks were empty for their homecoming but Fenris said he could feel they were being watched. Hawke believed him. If news of what Hawke was truly capable of had reached Kirkwall, perhaps they were afraid and watchful and nothing else. Like normal.

A letter was waiting for her at the Hanged Man. Delivered to her personally by Meeran. Her former mercenary boss handed her a sealed envelope and returned the deed to her estate. He had a knighthood waiting for him back in Ferelden and her deed was the price to pay. It was all part of her courtship the letter assured her and for her to just accept the gesture and move on. And by move on he meant move back in to her own ancestral home.

He sent flowers, too.

She didn't send a warning or a messenger ahead of herself. Aedan wasn't sure how she had managed to sneak past Vigil's Keep's guards but he suspected it involved a heavy dose of magic. He had protection against that but Hawke had so much raw power that it was hardly fair to expect the midnight watch to have any chance against her.

Aedan slowly closed the door of his room, noted how Hawke had stoked his fire and, while huddling near the flame, had wrapped his quilt around her wet and mud soaked body.

She spoke before he had a chance to. "You should have warned me about Anders. About Justice. I mean, I was warned by pretty much anyone that had ever met Anders about Anders but maybe I would have listened to you." She waved a hand around dismissively. "No, no, that isn't fair. I don't listen to anybody."

"Hawke, I heard what happened." He knew she'd want to talk about it later on, but for now if the wound was too fresh he could save her some trouble. "We heard about the Chantry, I mean."

"You went through all that trouble to get me back my estate. The Templars probably reduced it to rubble by now." Hawke seemed smaller with each word. "Everything's in ashes. Again."

He knew what a life on the run meant. He had lived it for a year but Hawke had lived it her entire life. She looked so tired.

What had to happen next was easy.

Aedan went to her and slowly, waiting to see her response, removed her soaked clothing. He hung the robes up to dry by the fireplace and then placed a shivering Hawke into his bed. She said nothing but watched him wearily as he put the covers over her. "Go to sleep," he said and she did not argue. She rolled over to face away for him and worked on slowing her breathing.

He did not sleep. He packed them both warm clothes and provision and sent for Nathaniel and her brother.

In the morning he explained what they were doing and where they were going and who they'd be taking with them. He fed her and waited until she had cleaned the entire plate. This took some prodding because she was picking at her food out of anxiety.

He drew her a bath, letting her slide into the warm water until her head was submerged. He pulled her back out and cleaned her up, reminding her that this would be the last such bath they'd have for a long time. She said very little, only watched him worked so tirelessly to fix her mess.

After she was dressed again, not in her signature armour this time. They hid that away under the floorboards. She wore soft, warm clothing and good sturdy boots. She spoke now, "You're sure you want to do this?"

"It was getting too routine around here," Aedan smiled, attempting to make her feel less of whatever emotion she was toying with at the time.

"But—"

"I thought we had already handled our guilt a long time ago. Together. Believe me, I would have whisked you away from Kirkwall long before this if I had thought you would let me." Aedan stared back at her, unable to read anything on her oddly stoic face. "I want to do this for you. And it's hardly the perfect solution. Or a pleasant one. You shouldn't feel as if there's a debt between us. Most people I take into the Deep Roads aren't exactly thanking me."

She sat next to him and started to help him fold their extra clothing he was trying to pack. While she wasn't paying attention Aedan refolded it for her. In just minutes Hawke put down the shirt she was folding terribly and looked sharply at him. "Do you think there's a cure for you down in the Deep Roads?"

"Your brother and I certainly hope so," Aedan quipped and quickly added, "I've heard of someone who resisted the Calling. It wasn't pretty, but there may be something down there."

"I believe you." She knew the cure wasn't the only reason they were heading down in the Deep Roads. No Templar would follow her there. Hawke sighed and said, her usual sarcastic drawl creeping into her voice, "Well, I wouldn't want our first time together to be in the Deep Roads. Don't you agree?"

There was no arguing with such clear logic. Hawke didn't give him the time to.

"But that was before that this little, ah, misunderstanding we're currently engaged in," Varric explained, shrugging nonchalantly and then asked for an ale. "C'mon, Seeker. I've been telling stories for hours now. Don't you have anyone better looking to torture? Huh, I guess not."

Cassandra had to clench her fingers in an effort to keep from biting her fingernails with anxiety. "You haven't finished, dwarf! Where is Hawke? Where is the Warden? You've made friends, co-conspirators of both of them and you expect me to believe that you have no idea where they are?"

"I know you've read my little novella, The Champion and the Warden." Varric cleared his throat, irritated at the absence of a good, stiff drink to get him through having to be reminded that he and Hawke weren't currently attached at the hip like old times. "You know how this ends. Hawke and Cousland go into the Deep Roads together to search for a cure. It makes sense. Her brother needs it as well. All the loose ends were tied up with a cliché happily ever after. Actually, I guess vanishing into the Deep Roads is less than romantic but look who I was working with. Granted, it didn't sell quite as well as my other literature but..."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that, Varric?"

She sounded exasperated. Varric knew the feeling. He had spent the past few days telling tale after tale about Hawke and their merry band of misfits. Finally, he threw up his hands in defeat. "Seeker, I don't expect you to believe any of it. I was just trying to sell a few more books. Do you really think Hawke met the Warden? I mean, we met a lot of people we shouldn't logically have... But the Warden wasn't one. I don't think the man has left Ferelden...ever. And why would he? They have...beets and dirt. Who wouldn't want to leave?"

She had been about to reach for her dagger, presumably to stab another piece of quality literature when his words made her go very quiet. "What?"

There was no way to play this out in his favor so Varric just tried the truth. Always a risky move and never one he recommended. "Hawke and the Warden? Never met. I was trying to make some quick coin and Hawke may have dared me to include the Warden in her next adventure and it might have gotten slightly out of hand."

"Slightly?"

Maker, he was Thedas's top selling author and he still kept putting off writing his own will.

"Wherever Hawke is, she's alone." Varric frowned and wondered how long the Seeker would throw him in a cell this time. "However I spin her story, it won't change that. And if she ever tries to contact me I'm sure you'll know before I do."

"You've wasted my time with a fairy tale."

Why was she surprised? "I warned you that I would at the beginning." Varric smacked his dry lips. "Hawke was never a person you were ever going to understand. I probably got the closest and I still have questions. You're chasing a ghost."

"The Warden. Hawke. Never met."

"It's incredibly unlikely. Which is probably why it didn't sell that well."

He had wasted her time but she had asked him to. Varric wasn't sure how the rest of the interrogation might have gone if Cassandra hadn't been pulled away to deal with something even bigger than the tall tales of the Champion of Kirkwall.

Cassandra had believed him and she would only find out later in how many ways that was a mistake.

There was a battle, like always, but the Wardens were there and most of them were there as enemies. But some eventually resisted and Cassandra fought them and alongside them. Corypheus's influence was greater than even the Inquisitor had realized.

Hawke also fought with them and Hawke fell into the fade with the Inquisitor tumbling in after her.

Hawke was almost what Varric's stories had made her out to be. She was certainly as tall as the stories said. As Varric had said.

But she was quieter, that wicked humor of hers only showing itself in short bursts. Cassandra wanted to ask her about a lot of things, not all strictly professional and she felt a small sense of shame. She knew things about Hawke, had forced Varric to give up every detail of her large life. Except where she had fled. She had an idea that Hawke knew this, judging from the way the woman avoided her. Or it might have just been a habit Hawke developed around anyone associated with the Chantry.

They fell into the Fade. And then fell out of it, with one exception.

The battle with the Wardens drew to a close and the survivors met in the middle, clasping on to whichever of their brethren had survived.

The Inquisitor left to report Stroud's great sacrifice while Hawke, Varric, and Cassandra stood idly by. Catching their breath and wiping blood off their clothes. Cassandra was staring at Hawke, wondering where her offer to sacrifice herself had come from. Sacrificing herself for her Kirkwall companions, Cassandra could understand that based on the lengthy and exaggerated character analysis Varric had provided of the Champion. But a sacrifice for the greater good? For an ever changing ideal? That Cassandra could not even dream of understanding.

More confusion was yet to come.

A Warden in old armour stumbled toward them, long limbs limping their way.

Hawke straightened and ran away from their little group. Cassandra shouted after her to wait for an identifier from the man but the Champion was sly and dodged ever attempt to drag her back.

The Warden threw his helmet off and let it tumble behind him. He slowly stopped running once he realized that Hawke was not going to stop. She collided fully into the man, their armour clanging together spectacularly.

The battlefield stank of blood and excrement and the two of them cradled each other like they were in the Val Royeaux royal gardens.

"Who is that?" Cassandra spat, blushing at the scene.

Varric's sigh was long and drawn out and simply to stall for time and not to add to the drama. "That'd be, ah, the Warden."

"I can see that it's a-"

"I said "the" Warden," Varric clarified.

It was very comically how Varric could practically see the gears turning in her suddenly star struck head. Cassandra sputtered and clenched her jaw repeatedly before, "Varric! You lying, son of a-"

"Correct."

She was trying to kiss him, half believing the Inquisitor had let her stay behind in the fade after all and this was just a very convincing desire demon tempting her. As soon as she had learned that the Wardens were involved she had expected him to make some sort of dramatic appearance. Probably bathed in the glowing light of the Maker himself, looking dashing and heroic. Leave it to him to wait until after she had tried to throw herself to the wolves to show up. Had she known he was here she would have been a lot more selfish.

Aedan kept her at bay, trying to search her for wounds or broken bones. There were mumbled curses in protest until he finished his rushed examination. "Okay." It wasn't a question; it was a relief. "You're here."

"That's my line, blue-blood. Trying to steal my spotlight? I'm already sharing it with the Herald of Andraste."

"Surely there's room for me as well?"

"No."

Hawke wrapped her arms around his neck and sank down, letting gravity do the work for her. Together they fell into the battlefield, kissing each other's dirty faces.

Finally, "Are you going back with me?"

She looked up into normally cold eyes and found them inviting and kind. She couldn't tease him this time. "Yes."

"Your work here is finished?"

"I have, as always, done more than enough."

"You are more than enough."

And Hawke turned away, his frankness with her sometimes too much to someone not used to such easy compliments. Aedan brought her gaze back to him and kissed her softly once. "We will be together for as long as we can this time."

He promised that each time they were thrust back together and he had kept his promise as best as he could.

Hawke nodded. "I love you." It was easy to say this when they parted; harder to say when they reunited. When leaving one another the words were said quickly and urgently. Whenever they met again the words were said with the knowledge that the next time could be accompanied with a final farewell.

Aedan removed her gauntlets so his fingers could interlace with hers. "Are you ready to become Lady Cousland?"

She laughed too loudly, her voice cracking and rising in shock. "Now? Look of the state of my dress? What would people think?"

That was a silly question. "What does it matter what they think? They'd be too scared of you to say anything."

Hawke smirked. This wasn't the first time he had brought this up. "Ask me again after I've had a bath, blue-blood."

"How about I ask you during?"

"Even better."