There was grit and blood in Hawke’s mouth, the taste of it as vivid as the red and black of darkspawn and fire that was everywhere. They were coming in waves, more and more of them, the very land dying beneath their feet as they crowded around her aching body. Her shoulders heaved as her lungs struggled for breath, her hands were getting too weak to grip her weapons, and behind her was something precious and familiar that must absolutely be protected. So where had her weapons gone? Why was there more blood now, gushing – from her? Or worse? As frightening as the darkspawn were, this scared her more – whatever had just happened behind her, where she couldn’t see, where she knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. She opened her mouth to scream, but heard nothing, nothing except the roar of rising flames and the crack of breaking bones, drowning out every thought in her mind except that she couldn’t turn, she couldn’t–
The transition into waking was a confusing one. Hawke’s nightmare faded into clammy unease, her body sticky with sweat, a moan locked in her throat – but she could move, so she did, wrenching herself away from the hand on her shoulder. She nearly went further, bolting from her bed, but then a bit more clarity descended and she knew there was no danger. “Ugh,” she muttered, groggy and unhappy, getting her breath back under control.
“Are you… are you alright?” Anders’ hand hovered between them, where he had pulled it back when she startled. She could see him well enough by the glow of the fireplace embers to note the battle-ready hardness of his expression, despite his anxious tone – this was a mage ready to fight any danger to his lover.
“Just a dream,” Hawke croaked, throat sleep-parched, and flopped back on her pillow.
Anders leaned closer, still not quite touching. “Are you sure?”
Hawke’s mouth stretched into a thin smile. “Haven’t poked at anything cursed in weeks,” she said. Besides, from what she could recall – the dark iron taste of blood, the echo of unholy laughter, flames dancing in the background – this was a familiar dream, and no new visitation from the Fade.
Anders touched her gently, feeling her brow as her mother used to when checking for a fever, and as the mattress dipped beneath his weight there was a trickle, a burst of something – a hundred dew-drops barely touching her skin before evaporating. Not unpleasant, but unexpected. “Whoa, there,” she made a grab for his hand, and the feeling stopped abruptly.
“Sorry,“ Anders said quickly. “I just wanted to check — there’s nothing wrong; no sign of anything from the Fade.”
Hawke’s body was still heavy with the need for more sleep, and she pulled Anders’ arm down over her shoulder and burrowed into his side. “I told you,” she mumbled into that comfortable warmth, glad to feel his skin against her now, instead of the ghostly memory of vicious cuts and blows. “It was just a dream.”
Anders nuzzled into her hair, his arm tightening around her. “It seemed… bad,” he said.
Hawke gave a soft huff of a breath. “I’m used to it.” Anders wouldn’t be, though – he hadn’t shared her bed long enough yet. It was one of the many reasons Isabela had never stayed. ‘Too flaily’, she’d said. Hawke hoped Anders wouldn’t leave. It would be cold. And, she realized muzzily, having him here was kind of comforting. “Sorry,” she sighed – the best she could come up with to get him to stay.
“No, no, no – don’t apologize…” Anders kissed the top of her head, arms tightening around her. “I understand.”
Hawke was thinking that this was probably good because Anders seemed like he would stay, but bad because ‘understand’ meant her lover, too, knew night terrors only too well. “Sorry,” she said – for his sake this time, not for hers.
Anders nuzzled her hair in response, and Hawke smiled. It felt good – he was thawing the remaining chill of fear from her bones with his closeness, and his touch was helping settle her here and now, in bed. Safe.
“Sleep, love,” Anders murmured, and Hawke yawned against him. “Yes. Sleep now. I’ll keep watch, and make sure the dreams don’t come back.”
Hawke smiled sleepily at that – he was being sweet, and promising impossible things. She knew her dreams were hers alone, but he was staying, and that was enough. She would sleep now, and Anders would still be there in the morning.