Creators have been revealed for @thejoiningexchange, so now I can share my gift for @juniper-and-dragonthorn! I came into this exchange certain I'd be writing something with Isseya or Valya or Davrin, but the Hawke/Stround pairing seized me and would not let go (positive)
Female Hawke/Jean-Marc Stroud | Teen | 5141 words | No CW | divider credit
On the run from the Wardens, Hawke and Stroud dare to steal something for themselves.
(It ends just as it was always going to.)
addt'l tags: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, grief/mourning, vignettes, purple hawke, warden carver hawke, hawke left in the fade
“We don’t have to go,” she says, the contents of Varric’s letter hanging between them like storm clouds on the horizon. Her fingers press too hard into the parchment and leave their imprint in soot when she discards it, frustrated. “Maker knows I had to figure everything out on my own. This Inquisitor is already better off. They don’t need me— us.”
“You do not mean that,” Stroud murmurs. He’s reclined against the headboard, eyes closed, gloved fingers pressing idly at his temple.
“You don’t. Perhaps you wish you did, but you don’t.”
“It would be easier if I did,” she grumbles. A tired smile tugs at the corner of Stroud’s mouth; it twists something in Hawke’s heart, to see it, for how rare it is these days. And for how it throws the lines on his brow, the dark circles stamped under his eyes, into sharp relief.
“Has easier been in the cards for people like us, even once?”
Hawke huffs and settles next to him. Coaxes him sideways so his head is in her lap and her fingers can take the place of his, teasing the headache from behind his brow, offering them both the comfort of skin against skin.
“I’m eternally optimistic.”
read in full on ao3 here!