It was their first, since fleeing Kirkwall, and dates had a tendency to come and go with little notice on the road. Before meeting Hawke, the holiday had held little significance for the former Circle mage. After all, it was a day for spending time with family and loved ones. What use for a man who'd never truly belonged anywhere?
But Garrett had a way of making seemingly inconsequential things special. Like eating cheese on the balcony before bedtime, or sitting in front of the library fireplace late at night, or that little strip of red cloth he'd given Anders years ago. So, too, had Satinalia come to be a special day for the mage. No matter how busy he'd been with the clinic or the mage resistance, he'd always made a point of spending the day with Garrett, drinking hot apple cider (in spite of the fact it never truly got cold enough in Kirkwall to warrant such a warm beverage), and badly singing holiday songs with Boddahn and Sandal.
On the run, however, was another matter. Boddahn, Sandal, and the rest of their friends were long gone. The Kirkwall estate would not be decked out in holiday finery this year. Nor did Anders believe they would have the opportunity to sample any cider, despite the growing chill as they'd traveled south into Ferelden.
Despite his reservations, Garrett had finally reluctantly conceded to Anders’ insistent requests that they seek more permanent shelter to hole up for the winter. They might be recognized in even a small town but they would almost certainly perish if they tried to keep traveling in such miserable weather. Eventually, they had taken refuge in a small chasind village near the edge of the Korcari Wilds. It was small and isolated enough that Garrett felt it relatively safe, and the heathen locals bore the Chantry no love so Anders also felt safe, provided he didn't openly work his magic and reveal himself for what he was. Instead, he posed as a traveling medicine man, offering soothing balms and tinctures made from nothing more threatening than the local plantlife. (If he happened to infuse each with a blush of magic every night to increase their potency, well the locals were none the wiser.)
Garrett still insisted on spending his days patrolling the perimeter of the little village. Just in case. There was not much he could do to help Anders anyway and he reasoned it might give them a little bit of warning should they need to make a sudden getaway.
When Hawke left that morning without saying a word about what day it was, Anders knew something was wrong. How could Garrett have forgotten his favorite holiday? He must be more worried than Anders had believed. The mage hoped his plans to surprise his love would go a long way toward restoring some of that lost joy Hawke had once displayed.
Instead of working on restocking his potions that day, Anders spent the time decorating the modest little hut they were calling home for the winter. He didn’t have evergreen branches to hang above the door and mantel, so the healer was forced to use bundles of drying herbs tied together with strips of red cloth he'd cut from one of Garrett’s old shirts. Normally, they lit dozens of little candles to add to the festive air but candles were scarce in the small village. In lieu of candles, Anders got creative and hung tiny magelights all across the ceiling until it twinkled like stars. He just had to hope none of the locals stopped by and started asking questions. Decorating done, he then set to work cooking the duck he managed to trade a chasind hunter for, roasting it with onions, potatoes, and mushrooms. It would be the largest meal they'd had in months and he'd been saving up for it in secret.
Once satisfied with his handiwork, there was nothing left for Anders to do but wait for Hawke to return from his patrol.
So Anders waited.
And waited.
Hawke had been late, before, of course. Anders assumed he'd stopped to talk to one of the villagers. After all, Garrett had grown up traipsing through the surrounding countryside. He had more in common with these folk than he did Anders in some ways.
So the mage puttered about his little worktable and tried to get some work done while he waited, the feast beginning to grow cold. He tried not to think about what else might be keeping his lover out late. It would be just their luck to be driven from this place on Satinalia, forced to flee in the depths of winter with naught but the clothes on their backs.
He began to tense at every passing footstep, his nerves keying up ever higher with the influx of traffic. They were along the main road through town. This sort of traffic wasn't unusual. Or so he tried to tell himself. It was nothing. Garrett would be home soon. He fussed with a few of the lights, moving them around in an attempt to look more aesthetically pleasing before he simply put them back the way they were.
Any minute now, surely-
The doorlatch lifted and hot panic surged into Anders’ gut. He would not go down without a fight. He called upon his magic and backed against the far wall, prepared to throw everything he had at the intruder-
-and was greeted with a fuzzy, whiskered face that turned green eyes on him with a quizzical little mew.
Anders blinked and released his magic as the kitten was carried in by an exhausted, snow-covered Hawke. The dark-haired man grinned sheepishly at Anders and extended the squirming kitten toward the mage.
“Sorry I'm late. Took me some time to track down this little one.” Garrett paused and looked around, noticing the decorations and the scent of roast duck in the air. “Anders…” he said softly, voice trembling with a hint of emotion. “Did you…?”
It was obvious he had and Anders grinned, relief and happiness flooding his limbs until he felt giddy. “Do you like it? I'm sorry I couldn't find real candles and the duck might be a little gamy because they've all flown-”
He was cut off as Garrett swept him into a tight hug and kissed him, the meowing little ball of fluff caught between them and voicing her displeasure.
“Happy Satinalia,” Garrett rumbled, dark lashes framing burnished eyes as he gazed fondly at Anders.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
gift for Ironspined
Date: 2015-12-20 07:01 am (UTC)It was their first, since fleeing Kirkwall, and dates had a tendency to come and go with little notice on the road. Before meeting Hawke, the holiday had held little significance for the former Circle mage. After all, it was a day for spending time with family and loved ones. What use for a man who'd never truly belonged anywhere?
But Garrett had a way of making seemingly inconsequential things special. Like eating cheese on the balcony before bedtime, or sitting in front of the library fireplace late at night, or that little strip of red cloth he'd given Anders years ago. So, too, had Satinalia come to be a special day for the mage. No matter how busy he'd been with the clinic or the mage resistance, he'd always made a point of spending the day with Garrett, drinking hot apple cider (in spite of the fact it never truly got cold enough in Kirkwall to warrant such a warm beverage), and badly singing holiday songs with Boddahn and Sandal.
On the run, however, was another matter. Boddahn, Sandal, and the rest of their friends were long gone. The Kirkwall estate would not be decked out in holiday finery this year. Nor did Anders believe they would have the opportunity to sample any cider, despite the growing chill as they'd traveled south into Ferelden.
Despite his reservations, Garrett had finally reluctantly conceded to Anders’ insistent requests that they seek more permanent shelter to hole up for the winter. They might be recognized in even a small town but they would almost certainly perish if they tried to keep traveling in such miserable weather. Eventually, they had taken refuge in a small chasind village near the edge of the Korcari Wilds. It was small and isolated enough that Garrett felt it relatively safe, and the heathen locals bore the Chantry no love so Anders also felt safe, provided he didn't openly work his magic and reveal himself for what he was. Instead, he posed as a traveling medicine man, offering soothing balms and tinctures made from nothing more threatening than the local plantlife. (If he happened to infuse each with a blush of magic every night to increase their potency, well the locals were none the wiser.)
Garrett still insisted on spending his days patrolling the perimeter of the little village. Just in case. There was not much he could do to help Anders anyway and he reasoned it might give them a little bit of warning should they need to make a sudden getaway.
When Hawke left that morning without saying a word about what day it was, Anders knew something was wrong. How could Garrett have forgotten his favorite holiday? He must be more worried than Anders had believed. The mage hoped his plans to surprise his love would go a long way toward restoring some of that lost joy Hawke had once displayed.
Instead of working on restocking his potions that day, Anders spent the time decorating the modest little hut they were calling home for the winter. He didn’t have evergreen branches to hang above the door and mantel, so the healer was forced to use bundles of drying herbs tied together with strips of red cloth he'd cut from one of Garrett’s old shirts. Normally, they lit dozens of little candles to add to the festive air but candles were scarce in the small village. In lieu of candles, Anders got creative and hung tiny magelights all across the ceiling until it twinkled like stars. He just had to hope none of the locals stopped by and started asking questions. Decorating done, he then set to work cooking the duck he managed to trade a chasind hunter for, roasting it with onions, potatoes, and mushrooms. It would be the largest meal they'd had in months and he'd been saving up for it in secret.
Once satisfied with his handiwork, there was nothing left for Anders to do but wait for Hawke to return from his patrol.
So Anders waited.
And waited.
Hawke had been late, before, of course. Anders assumed he'd stopped to talk to one of the villagers. After all, Garrett had grown up traipsing through the surrounding countryside. He had more in common with these folk than he did Anders in some ways.
So the mage puttered about his little worktable and tried to get some work done while he waited, the feast beginning to grow cold. He tried not to think about what else might be keeping his lover out late. It would be just their luck to be driven from this place on Satinalia, forced to flee in the depths of winter with naught but the clothes on their backs.
He began to tense at every passing footstep, his nerves keying up ever higher with the influx of traffic. They were along the main road through town. This sort of traffic wasn't unusual. Or so he tried to tell himself. It was nothing. Garrett would be home soon. He fussed with a few of the lights, moving them around in an attempt to look more aesthetically pleasing before he simply put them back the way they were.
Any minute now, surely-
The doorlatch lifted and hot panic surged into Anders’ gut. He would not go down without a fight. He called upon his magic and backed against the far wall, prepared to throw everything he had at the intruder-
-and was greeted with a fuzzy, whiskered face that turned green eyes on him with a quizzical little mew.
Anders blinked and released his magic as the kitten was carried in by an exhausted, snow-covered Hawke. The dark-haired man grinned sheepishly at Anders and extended the squirming kitten toward the mage.
“Sorry I'm late. Took me some time to track down this little one.” Garrett paused and looked around, noticing the decorations and the scent of roast duck in the air. “Anders…” he said softly, voice trembling with a hint of emotion. “Did you…?”
It was obvious he had and Anders grinned, relief and happiness flooding his limbs until he felt giddy. “Do you like it? I'm sorry I couldn't find real candles and the duck might be a little gamy because they've all flown-”
He was cut off as Garrett swept him into a tight hug and kissed him, the meowing little ball of fluff caught between them and voicing her displeasure.
“Happy Satinalia,” Garrett rumbled, dark lashes framing burnished eyes as he gazed fondly at Anders.
“Happy Satinalia, love.”