#post-kirkwall

So @dacreateathon works have been revealed, which means I can start sharing stuff. There was a prompt for elven ears being sensitive, so of course I had to give Adrian this information and let him experiement.

It was just past midnight, the sky velvet-dark above them, stars scattered like someone had carelessly upended a bottle of diamonds over black silk. The ship creaked beneath their feet, the Crimson Gale at rest, drifting with the tide. Most of the crew were asleep—or drunk enough to count as it—and the deck was quiet, save for two figures leaning on the rail.

Adrian Hawke lounged there like he owned the night, one shoulder pressed against the wood, arms folded. The grin that curved his mouth was lazy, practiced, dangerous in its ease. When he finally spoke, his voice sliced through the stillness—light, teasing, threaded with that familiar challenge.

“I read a book last night.”

Fenris didn’t turn. He stood beside him, forearms resting on the rail. His white hair caught the moonlight like frost, and one ear flicked—the only hint he was listening.

“Thrilling,” he replied, perfectly dry.

“It had words and everything,” Adrian said, edging closer.

“That is generally the minimum requirement for a book.”

Adrian waved the comment away. “Bella’s library is a masterpiece of chaos. One volume’s just ship manifests with swear words in the margins. Another’s a cookbook where every recipe ends with ‘serve with rum.’ But last night…” He paused, eyes glinting. “Last night I found a scholarly tome. Footnotes. Diagrams. A proper, dusty, respectable work of art. I think it changed me.”

That earned him a look—slow, brief, wary. Fenris didn’t move otherwise, but Adrian caught the flicker of suspicion in the moonlight. The elf had known him too long not to sense danger.

Adrian’s grin deepened, delighted.

“I learned something fascinating,” he murmured, leaning in until his shoulder brushed Fenris’s arm. His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. “A secret.”

Fenris didn’t move. But Adrian caught the shift—the faint straightening of his spine, the coiled awareness that always came when he suspected Adrian was up to something.

“What sort of secret?” Fenris asked, voice flat, measured.

Adrian hummed. Not answering. Just letting the silence stretch between them.

Then he leaned closer, until his mouth hovered by Fenris’s ear—not touching, but close enough that his breath ghosted over the skin.

He waited. One heartbeat. Two.

And there it was.

A flick—sharp, involuntary—the ear twitching like that of a cat who knew it was being watched.

Adrian smiled, slow and wicked. “That elven ears,” he whispered—still close enough to feel the faint flicker of movement from his breath—“are very… sensitive.”

Continue on A03

However, the absence of suspicious whispers, of inebriated shouting and glass clinking, or even the distinct clash of steel on steel wasn't so readily welcome. One would think after days spent slinking through taverns or traveling under cover of darkness, somehow avoiding needless conflict, that Hawke would relish the quiet. Instead, it was jarring, ill-fitting, and he was finding it a bit difficult to readjust. 

The two apostates, Anders and himself, had bid Kirkwall no remorseful farewells some weeks ago by now. A whole month had passed while they were in the wind. That he had even stayed in Kirkwall so long had been for his family more than anything - not the family he lost but the one he gained. His companions had filled the void left behind after one loss followed another, and they became the family he needed in his worst moments.

It was not so unfamiliar to him, the fugitive lifestyle, and not wholly unwelcome either. Quite frankly, his past experiences had already acclimated him towards the nomadic habits, always moving and never lingering anywhere long. So embracing the lifestyle once more didn't bother him. It was going to be a process. He could handle it. He had come through so much, and this would be minuscule in comparison. 

Their travels brought them to the outskirts of the Korcari wilds, halfway to the home of his youth - Lothering. 

Hawke had received no news of the Blight razed town and was left to assume it lost to the Maker-begotten spawn. It was the first time in years he spent any significant length of time thinking about it. Curiosity over what they might find nibbled at him and with their travels temporarily suspended Wyatt had the time to think about it more earnestly. Ideally, they would skirt through the Hinterlands to reach Lothering within a few days. As for how long they planned to stay depended upon the state of the village.

Hawke laid claim to a bare patch amongst the overgrown vegetation and reclined against the hard trunk of a tree while they took a brief respite. Summer was upon them, and the humidity within the wilds could be rather unforgiving. Anders spotted a place to cool off and wash up, while Hawke wanted nothing to do with the lake, perfectly happy on dry land. Finn joined him in the shade, but not before digging himself a mabari-sized recess in the dirt to get at the mud below the surface. Before long, Hawke found himself nodding off for a few passing minutes at a time. While he wanted to succumb, to drift off peacefully and enjoy this pause, he fought against the urge. They were still too exposed, even at the edge of the wilds. At least when they reached the town, they had a chance to blend in.

Vision hazy as he forced his eyes open again; they focused on a welcome sight in the distance. Wyatt grinned as he silently admired his companion.

Anders had already discarded all clothing from the waist up and let his hair hang loose around his shoulders as splashed his face with the fresh river water. He seemed to relish what little relief it inevitably brought. Seconds passed before the man finally craned his neck to glance behind him, peering through a curtain of blonde. "See something you like?" He spoke with a slight smile and raked his fingers through his hair, giving it a good shake.

Hawke folded his arms behind his head, playing coy but utterly incapable of hiding the hopeless pining he felt. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?"

"Just a hunch," was Anders's reply as he continued preening.

By now, dark clouds had rolled in and covered the sun. Though spared from its harsh rays, the impending threat of a storm was the trade-off.

When Hawke closed his eyes and settled against the tree, fully intending to take advantage of the shade, it was one drop - two drops - on his cheek that startled him awake. With a groan, he turned his gaze up at the sky accusingly, just as Anders scurried up from the shore. "Well, so much for just a brief stop."

While the drizzle steadily developed, Hawke still sat there quietly, admiring his companion, who was already making short work of their makeshift shelter. Eventually, Anders stopped and leveled a confused frown at him. "You're certainly welcome to sleep out in the rain if that's what you'd like, but I rather like being dry. So if you don't mind," he gestured passively to the mess at his feet, visibly annoyed. 

With a smile on his lips and a chuckle low in his throat, Hawke rose to his feet. Rather than take up a corner of the tent, he collected Anders into his arms in a single smooth action.

There was some resistance from the man, some hopeless writhing while he sputtered protests, but half-heartedly at best. "Nope," Hawke mumbled against Anders's lips, kissing the corner of his mouth and along his jaw. "Too good not to take advantage of this."

"Love, please," Anders pleaded between fits of laughter. "We're going to be drenched..."

An actual summer shower was in full swing now, but while the soft rain soaked both men and the ground around them, Wyatt couldn't bear to pull himself away from Anders, who had since stopped resisting and started kissing back in earnest. This continued for a few minutes until they finally parted, panting, and breathless with their foreheads gently pressed together. It was Hawke who spoke first and held Anders' face in the palms of his hands. He felt like he could breathe again for the first time in years as if the weight on his chest suddenly lifted. 

Turns out, it was Fenris who led Hawke to some strange places, not the other way around. Word began spreading of a white wolf who hunted slavers along the Imperial Highway, bringing renewed hope to the elves of Thedas until the Champion was called upon once more…

Guess what? Anderrrrrrrssssss

I mean he could look a bit like this after some years on the run. (Yes, with Hawke. Noticed the key, did ya? HIGH FIVE.)