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The first days of the rebellion had been hit or miss. The voices of the many had not been silent about what he did and happily shared their opinions. Among them were those who resented him and mourned the lives they'd created for themselves in the Circles. Some of the mages kept their cards close to their chest, however. Those who were grateful for the return of their freedom were much quieter, not wanting to be seen as outliers. At the end of the day, Anders did not begrudge anyone for how they felt.
Cohabitating with the rebels had been equal parts stressful and fulfilling. Once the two, Hawke and himself, had overcome their initial fear of the mages' opinions on the rebellion in Kirkwall and this newfound war, they embraced the work readily. Garrett had been content to provide his unique insights on living outside of a Circle, growing up an apostate relatively free from the Chantry's oversight and, of course, any physical labor involved in establishing camps. Anders himself reprised his role as a healer when needed and offered his own experience as a former Circle mage to those who had known nothing else before this.
He'd fallen into old habits, using skills he'd learned in the Wardens and Kirkwall. Anders was a mage amongst mages, doing what was needed for his people even though it was often a thankless job.
It never deterred him; he wasn't doing it for the praise.
As a tickling began at the tip of his nose, Anders scrunched it tightly, determined never to let his pen leave the page. He squinted over the top of his reading specs, forcing the sensation to subside by sheer will alone. Unsuccessful, a sneeze overtook him and scattered the pages. "Oh for-," Anders muttered, scrambling to snatch them up with ink-smudged hands.
Melodious laughter drifted in through the open window filling the humble space of the infirmary. Whatever annoyance he might have expressed practically melted away, soothed by the sounds of happiness and revelry. Another Circle had fallen, and the mages within rallied to join the rebellion with vigor. The movement grew more prominent by the day, and Anders could barely contain his anticipation. Fear of the unknown future still lingered beneath it all, but every time he glanced beside him to see Hawke, it wasn't so frightening knowing the man was at his side.
Settling back down, Anders reached for the cup at the edge of his desk. His tea sat on the saucer still untouched, cooling rapidly by the minute. Even so, he could not let it go to waste and sipped at it reluctantly.
Garrett's penchant for immaculate timing was an art form. He entered with a mirthful belly laugh just as Anders all but choked down the cold tea, congealed honey and all, with a sour face. "Well that certainly looked pleasant. Am I missing out?"
"Very funny. It's my fault for neglecting it," Anders mused, sighing resolutely.
Strong hands found purchase on his shoulders moments before they began working deep into the muscle, massaging firmly. Garrett leaned forward just enough to press his lips into Anders' hair on the top of his head, and that was enough. He reclined further into his chair and laid down the quill, letting his eyes close while the world drifted around him. Practically purring, Anders' typically rigid form loosened, his shoulders drooped, and his breathing leveled out. All the tension from the days past nearly melted away with little effort.
"Seems like I ought to come and check on you more often." Hawke chuckled but continued massaging, wavering between gentle motions and applying enough force to soften all the knots between his shoulder blades.
Opening his eyes, Anders tilted his head back with a Cheshire grin. "Despite what you may think, my love, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself…and yes, I know what it looks like."
Garrett stopped, and Anders lurched forward with a rather pitiful whine in protest. "Come. You're missing out on the festivities."
Festivities? Though he did not voice it, his face gave him away as Hawke plucked the quill from his fingers, tossed it aside, and pulled him to his feet. Any protest he might have voiced died on his lips when he met with a wanton gaze, warmed by adoration. Anders was a weak man when it came to glances like that. He was addicted to how Hawke looked at him like a precious gift as if he had been Maker-sent - like he was the most breathtaking creature alive. Even Justice stirred at the notion, keen to know what Garrett was planning. Ethereal blue light from the Fade itself seeped out through naturally warm eyes and slivers across pale skin - the Spirit's more subtle way of making himself known without directly taking over. Not that he didn't steal the opportunity when presented…
"Alright," Anders spoke tentatively but couldn't keep himself from smiling until his cheeks ached. His notes could wait, he supposed.
With a brief peck on the cheek, Garrett's head bobbed enthusiastically. "Good! Trust me, you'll love it. You need a break anyway." As if Anders was in any position to argue with him, nor was he interested in doing so. Even Justice mused in agreement somewhere within the back of his thoughts. Something that did not happen often. No, it was a rare day when both mage and Spirit were on the same page, so Anders knew he had to take full advantage by letting himself be shuffled out the door.
Outside was not like in. It was warmly lit not by lamps and candles but by a blazing fire at the center of camp, built higher than in past days. The flames flickered, crackling brightly as they stretched toward the steadily darkening sky, towards the sun as it sank lower and lower into the horizon with each passing moment. It was a beacon of hope and a bold statement to those whose only goal was to see them imprisoned once more and reduced to little more than emotionless husks, stuck under the Chantry's thumb until they breathed their last.
"Is that truly wise?" Anders mused aloud, primarily to himself, but Garrett wrapped an arm around his waist, steering him towards the middle of the base.
"You said it yourself. It's time to break the rules once and for all, right? Look." He pointed at the gaggle of mages, lost in their joy with faces cracked in beaming smiles. The din of war was drowned out by the sounds of youthful laughter, song, and dance, of cheers and excited laughter. The bars of a familiar tune - one he was sure he heard in a few taverns years ago - carried across the fire and sparked a faint memory.
Anders blinked and recalled the taste of honeysuckle on his tongue, gentle light filtering through the leaves as he raced through the woods while chasing after flying blonde pigtails. A bittersweet ache settled in his chest, and he fought back the tears. This was everything they had been fighting for, wasn't it?
"You know, Anders, I was just like you once."
For a moment, all thought vacated his mind and left Anders staring at Garrett with pinched sandy brows and a curious tilt of his head. What a bizarre statement, yet he couldn't help the laughter that escaped. "What does that even mean?"
Hawke just looked back, grinning from ear to ear beneath his dark beard. He was both serious and not, evident by the humor dancing in his eyes. "It's true! I used to fret constantly and worry if I was doing the honorable thing. If I was doing right by those I cared about."
"Ah, that. Go on then, what changed?" Despite the topic, Anders remained in higher spirits than he had in days. He coaxed Hawke to continue with this unusual lead-in, waiting for the inevitable punchline.
"Some decisions change your life forever."
A man like that could have anyone he wanted, Apostasy aside. Yet, Hawke set his sights on Anders and was not someone to be deterred so easily. He stole another glance across his shoulder and let a private smile curl his lips. "You are an extraordinary man, Garrett Hawke. I'll never quite understand you and why you do the things you do but rest assured, I am a better man for being loved by you so."
Hawke's laughter was rich, full-bodied, and filled all of the cracks in Anders' soul born of insecurity and self-doubt. With a sweeping motion, the man addressed the modest fare thrown together by some of the older rebels. Those with the know-how and skills as a holdover from their lives before the Circle. "A feast in your honor, Serah!"
Anders shook his head, smiling at his nonsensical lover, but sat in front of the fire without protest. "Thank you, love. I suppose it's good to feel alive again. Even just for a little while."
Putting away the laughter for now, Garrett settled beside him and reached to brush away some few stray hairs from Anders' face. Those tender, loving gestures and the freedom to be so public with their affections were what he always yearned for. They were what he lived for and fought for. "Tonight, nothing is forbidden. It's about celebrating. Both how far we've come and what we still hope to achieve."
He opened his mouth to say something in response to the beautiful sentiment, but a tugging at his clothes interrupted his thoughts. It was a boy no older than ten, eager to get his attention. His gap-tooth grin, wild brown hair, and face full of freckles were hard to forget. "Healer, healer, look!" Twinkling lights danced across his vision, and Anders turned his head to watch as a pair of young mages conjured wisps, letting them flit about like fireflies, the same he and his siblings used to chase on balmy summer nights.
His heart swelled with the promise of a better future, even if it was difficult to picture sometimes. Anders was no stranger to a struggle. He knew there would be just as many setbacks as there were wins. Yet as he gazed out at the camp, taking it all in, he instinctively leaned further against Hawke's shoulder, letting the awe overwhelm him. "If Karl could see this…."
"He'd be pretty proud of you, Anders."
"No, us. All of us. I could never do this alone."
"Hm, I don't know. You are pretty impressive."
Garrett chuckled, but Anders snorted. In good humor. "You're just saying that so I won't put my cold feet on you at night."
"Is it working?"
"Not likely, dear."