#every piece of happiness he tries for gets ripped away from him in increasingly violent ways until he stops trying

[brothersgrim]

Help im sad about the undertaker

[dontshootmespence]

Selfish

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer angsty piece where he and the reader were talking about possibilities for their relationship beyond friendship, but on a case, Spencer ends up with someone else.

                                                             ------

“What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” He asked, his gaze somewhere between hurt and indignant.

You couldn’t believe this. Not from Spencer. Spencer your best friend. Spencer the man that would never hurt you. How could he do this? “We were talking...” You breathed as he shrugged his coat on and headed toward the elevator. “About us. What we felt was there between us. Possibly something more than friendship. And now this?”

The possibility that you were in love with your best friend was just that - a possibility, but now that he was getting ready to go out with another woman you realized you were unequivocally in love with him. Why would this hurt otherwise? Why would this feel like he was stabbing you with a sharp knife and twisting it? Why would the middle of your chest feel hollow at the mention of her name if you weren’t in love with him? “Y/N, I’m...” He started, swallowing hard against the guilt. “I’m sorry...you don’t get to choose these things, you know?”

“Exactly!” You yelled, pushing him back with the palm of your hand. “We were talking and we said we both felt it. That something there that was more than what we thought. We both said it. I was telling the truth. Are you saying you weren’t?” Everyone on the team knew that you and Spencer were talking things out, about the possibilities between you. But they had no idea things had gone down this path and as the tears streamed down your face and the anger rose in your chest you couldn’t find it in yourself to care if they did find out. 

As you exited the elevator and headed to your cars, you found yourself increasingly desperate for answers of some kind. But he wasn’t giving you the ones you wanted to hear. In all honesty, you didn’t know which answers you wanted. “No, I wasn’t lying,” he said as he buttoned his coat and reached for the door handle. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know! But I can’t think of another reason that you would choose this woman who you barely know over someone you claim is your best friend?” It wasn’t like you thought that romantic feelings couldn’t bud for more than one person, but even if they had for this woman, you didn’t understand his reason for choosing her. “Spence, we’ve been friends for 10 years. I don’t get it.”

Spencer’s lip quivered as he pulled for the door handle. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t really know what to say. I have to go. I’m going to be late.” And without another word, he got into the car and pulled away, never looking back to the see the tears in your eyes, but he knew they were there. They were reflected in his own.

                                                              ------

“We have something here, right?” He asked.

You smiled at him from your place on the opposing bed. It was late and you could all go home in the morning. As always, you shared a room, but recently it had been more to talk about what you’d both been feeling. “I think so,” you replied. “I know that I don’t see you as just my best friend anymore. I feel like there’s more there. That I want to explore.”

“Me too,” he said. “It makes me nervous, but...me too.”

It had made you nervous too, but you never asked why. You both tried to fight the sleep in your eyes to talk some more but sleep had won out and once you returned to DC another case turned you right back around. And apparently right into her arms.

As you sunk into your bed in nothing but a baggy t-shirt, you felt the tears begin anew. You thought you had cried it all out in the car, considering you had to pull over once for fear of crashing, but here it was again. That creeping hollow feeling settled into the middle of your chest as silent cries wracked your body. This was going to change things between you.

In the ensuing days, you and Spencer barely spoke to each other, only interacting when a case or paperwork required it. Spencer always looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did and you were too hurt to do anything than what was necessary for work. 

You gave Hotch a heads up without going into detail about what was said. But it was possible that you were going to need some time off, whether it be temporary or permanent you weren’t sure. 

For a couple weeks, you continued on as normally as you possibly could until it was just too painful. Resignation was the only way to distance yourself. When you got home, you’d write one and get this over with. Everyone on the team looked so happy, even Spencer, and you couldn’t be around it anymore. 

                                                             ------

Writing your resignation letter was one of the most painful things you’d ever done. For years, you worked to get to this place and though painful in nature, you felt like you were doing something for the better. Spencer had become your best friend, the person you told everything to and for the longest time, your relationship remained as it always had, but when it changed your world changed and watching him choose someone else hurt too much to bear in close vicinity. 

After you closed the document, promising to email it to Hotch in the morning, you went to your cabinet and grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured yourself a glass. How you hadn’t become an alcoholic recently was astounding, but one drink couldn’t hurt. 

Knock. Knock.

Without a thought you slunk over to the door and opened it, feeling numb when you saw who it was. “Spencer what are you doing here?”

He was caught off guard. You never called him Spencer anymore. It was always Spence. “I came to see you obviously.”

The document was still open and he caught sight of it. “You’re resigning?!” He asked astonished. “Why? Y/N, you can’t leave?”

“No, what I can’t do is act like my best friend didn’t choose another woman over me. Thought she was more worthy of a relationship than I. I can’t act like that doesn’t hurt. And me hurting fucks with the team, so that’s my two weeks.” You chugged back the burning alcohol and felt it heat up your insides in the only way that made you feel at all okay. 

“I didn’t choose her over you,” he said, reaching for your arm to turn you around and keep you from pouring yourself another glass. 

“Oh really? Sure as hell looks like it!” You bellowed. Though you couldn’t see yourself, you could feel the strain in your eyes. “It looks like some random victim from a case was more worthy of giving a shot than I was.”

“That’s not it! I’m not even with her, Y/N! We went on two dates and then I couldn’t do it anymore!”

“Why?”

“Because I saw what it was doing to you and the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

Sure was a funny way of showing it. “You hurt me the instant you chose to go out with her after the conversations we’d been having. If hurting me was such a foreign, despicable concept to you, why didn’t you pursue us?” You wrenched your hand away and returned to the counter to pour yourself another glass, downing half in one gulp. 

“I...I-”

“You what?”

“I thought that pursuing us might lead to where we are right now anyway. Ruining what we had. But after having a romantic relationship, I knew it would hurt more, so I pursued her because I thought it was safer for both of us.”

“For you, you mean,” you spat angrily. There was a relief in knowing he wasn’t with her, but a seething exasperation as to how someone so smart could be led to such a stupid conclusion. “It was safer for you. Because you didn’t have to sit here and watch me ripping myself apart. You were selfish!”

He whispered quietly, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t know...I thought it would be better this way.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, stepping toward you and sobbing when you flinched away from him. “Every inter-Bureau relationship we’ve ever known of has ended in a bitter divorce, I didn’t want.”

“Well, look what’s happening now.” The resignation letter was right there on the screen. “Did you ever think we could be the ones to beat the odds?”

You could see in his eyes that he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I just...I love you too much to lose you, but that’s why I ended up not going out with her again because I could already feel that I was, so I was going to tell you sooner. That you were the woman I love, the one I wanted, but every time you looked at me, I felt such hatred that I couldn’t muster up the courage to say what I needed to say.”

“So now you want me?”

“I always have,” he said. “Too much. As convoluted as it sounds, it was that love that had me fearful of losing you all together.”

“You should have had faith in us. You should have believed that our history could get passed at that bureaucratic bullshit.” You put the glass down. You were so angry with him. “I need you to leave.”

“What?” He asked, attempting to step toward you again. “Y/N, please don’t turn me away.”

“I need time to think. If you didn’t have faith in us before...I don’t know what to do now.”

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t go. Don't resign. Give me a chance to prove to you how stupid I was.”

A sob shook through you. “I won’t resign. And I’ll give you a chance, but you still need to leave now. I’m too angry.”

“Okay,” he replied despondently. “I understand.” As he walked toward the door, he turned to you one last time. “I’m so unbelievably sorry for the pain I put you through.”

The second he closed the door, you collapsed onto the floor in silent and violent cries. What were you supposed to do? Was there a way to overcome this anger and hurt?

@prettyboyeffect @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @rmmalta @lukeassmanalvez @kalie-bee @veroinnumera @lookwhatyoumademequeue @cynbx @tippy06 @smolldork @marvelouslyme96 @literallyprentissstwin @adropintheocean1234567 @grace-for-sale @skrrrrrrrrrrt @mysticpansy @tenaciousarcadeexpert @jason-gideon-is-my-dad @dionnaea @boywonderspencer @multifandomizer @hogwarts-konoha @girlscrushes @bucky-smiles @ggyolo17 @chickenstringlights @sebba-hiddles @hellaqueerangelofthelord @shalomnovak @dropsofkink @princess-criminal @everyday-imfangirling @jae-sch

[lassofthelake]

If You’ll Have Me, Chapter 3

A Hawke/Lavellan fic in which two of Thedas’ heroes lean on one another as they struggle to the save the world from Corypheus, heal from past wounds and learn to love again.

Pairing: Hawke x Lavellan

Rating: T

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Revelations

Hakwe stood at the edge of their campsite in the Hinterlands, leaning against a tree and watching Valena with her children. The past couple months had been hard. The Inquisitor hadn't dared to bring her children to the Western Approach, which Hawke could understand. It was hardly a suitable environment for people at all - add in the Venatori and possessed Wardens and leaving them behind made total sense. It hurt her to do it, though, and seeing what was happening to the Warden mages had affected Valena. She'd been sullen and kept to herself, watching the mages being forced into a ritual that stripped them of both humanity and freewill disturbing her greatly. Hawke managed a few tired smiles as they'd returned to the hold, but it was like only a piece of her was present.

Matters had only worsened when they went back to Skyhold to find Miriel angry and defiant. Valena had never been gone so long before and the girl had taken it badly, despite constant reassurance that her mother would be back and she'd left her behind for her own good. Balor had been plenty happy to see his Mamae, but was clearly stressed out by Miri's anger and distance and cried more and demanded more attention from his mother as a result, wearing Valena's already fragile nerves further.

Hawke still remembered a particularly bad argument between mother and daughter.

Valena had gone to brush her fingers through Miri's strawberry blonde locks, as was her way, but when Miri had realized who was touching her, she'd become furious and slapped Valena's hand away with a hateful look. "Don't touch me!" the little girl had snarled. "I hate you!"

The red-haired elf flinched so violently, an onlooker might have thought that some invisible force had struck her across the face. Valena let her hand drop. "Miri," she entreated gently, "I know you're angry with me but I'm still your Mamae and you need to show me respect-"

"YOU ARE NOT MY MAMAE!" the little girl had screamed, eyes closing with the effort it took to raise her voice to such a volume, her tiny fists clenching at her sides. Her face had gone beat red. When she opened her green eyes, an exact mirror of her mother's they were filled with tears. "My mamae wouldn't have left me for so long," she'd finished, anger fading into devastation and sadness. Her fists unclenched and she'd buried her face in her hands and ran off sobbing, slamming the door to Josie's office behind her.

Valena helplessly reached for her daughter, but was rooted to the spot, unable to follow. The others who'd been present carefully avoided eye contact. Hawke had been the one to lead her from the main hall, away from the others who'd witnessed her daughter's tantrum. Miri's feelings were understandable, but seeing Valena this way - pale, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, features so blank she seemed a mere shell of herself - made Hawke feel worse for her mother.

Valena had silently held his hand as he talked to her for hours. Occasionally, a tear would silently fall from her eye and slide down her cheek. The first time, Hawke had reached out and tried to brush away her tears with the pads of his thumb like she'd done for him back at the cave, but she'd shied from any touch that wasn't his hand on hers, so he gave up and let the tear drops stain her tunic. Eventually, someone had come by with news of Balor asking for her, wanting a bed time story and to be tucked in, and that seemed to bring her back to herself - for the most part. The elf had shot Hawke a sad smile before she left and uttered a soft, "Thank you," and then disappeared up into her quarters for the evening.

Thankfully, Miri came around and forgave her mother. It had taken almost a week and a few outbursts, but, eventually, the girl realized she was more happy to have her mamae home than she was angry with her for leaving and the two had reconciled. Thereafter, Valena had become much more like herself again

Now she sat in a bright little patch of grass with Balor in her lap and Miri sitting beside her. Balor was leaning back against his mother contentedly with his eyes closed against the sun. His mother and sister were busy weaving flower crowns. Miri already wore a pink and white crown on her head and she kept attempting to fashion one for Valena, only for it to fall apart before she could present it to her mamae. Hawke couldn't hear from this distance, but it looked like Valena was gently directing the increasingly frustrated five-year old as she weaved a crown with dark red flowers. The dark red crown, Hawke had overhead Miri say when they were picking the flowers, was for Cassandra, who was busy sparring with the Bull at the other end of the camp. Hawke was sure that the warrior would be delighted when the little elf girl presented her with the gift.

Finally, Miri exclaimed in triumph as she finished the crown, interspersed with blue flowers and white roses. Valena smiled, accepting the crown from her daughter and proudly positioning it on her own head. It wasn't as neat looking as the one Valena had placed on Miri's head, nor the one Valena was working on for Cassandra, but it still suited the elfin woman well. The white roses brought out the white of her vallaslin beautifully.

Hawke was entirely mesmerized as she giggled at something her daughter said, her whole face radiant with joy.

Gregory was so mesmerized, in fact, that he didn't hear it when the dwarf sidled up next to him. "So," the story-teller hedged, making Hawke jump at the sudden intrusion and whirl to look down at him, "you're sweet on the Inquisitor, are you?" Varric wore his usual cocky grin, an eyebrow raised knowingly at his best and oldest friend.

The human man's eyes bugged and heat rose to his cheeks. "N-no!" he stuttered, practically tripping over himself to deny the accusation. "I-I just think she's admirable- A great leader!"

Varric rolled his eyes, looking like he'd never heard a bigger pile of horseshit in his entire life. "Yeah, sure," the dwarf replied dryly, "and I'm the Black Divine."

Hawke did not like how this conversation was turning out. His blush and his stutter were entirely betraying him. What happened to the practiced liar that traipsed through Kirkwall on the daily, a wanted apostate but nigh untouchable, even before he'd earned his champion status? Hawke used to bluff Templars, smugglers and other low lives without breaking a sweat. One accusation from his best friend about having feelings for the Inquisitor and he fell to pieces. The mage hated that, so so much. What was even worse, Varric would have known he was lying, even if he wasn't stuttering and blushing because he couldn't ever lie to his best buddy. Gregory sighed deeply, rubbing at his face. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm sweet on her, exactly," the taller man hemmed.

Varric's lips twitched a fraction upwards. "Oh, yeah? Then what would you call staring at her like that?" he inquired, almost blase.

"Like what?" Hawke shot back.

Varric chuckled. "Like she's the most magical woman you've ever laid eyes on."

"Well, to be fair, she is," Hawke joked with a little noncommittal shrug. Not only was the elvhen woman a mage but she also possessed the anchor, arguably making her the most magical person in all of Thedas.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "You know what I mean."

Hawke did know what he meant, unfortunately. He'd very recently come to the same conclusion and hadn't been ready to admit it out loud just yet. But of course, Varric knew. Varric knew him better than his own brother did. Varric had also been there last time he'd been smitten... and seen it go horribly south. "It's complicated," Hawke finally admitted.

"Only if you make it complicated," Varric argued. He paused and sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck before continuing in a more subdued tone, "Me and Bianca, we're complicated. Valena's a widow and, to my knowledge, you haven't been involved with anyone since... since Rivaini took off." A wry smile crossed Varric's face. "Not to mention, her family doesn't send assassins every time you so much as visit her. So if it's complicated, it's only because you're making it complicated."

Hawke frowned at Varric, thinking that was a gross oversimplification, but inwardly, he was pleased that the memory of Isabela leaving didn't rip a fresh hole in his heart and the old wound only gave a little throb. Still, though, Varric was wrong. The issue of his feelings for Valena was complicated. He was about to bring up the elephant in the room, and that was the fact that she had children that she'd always put first, but he stopped himself, realizing that he actually didn't mind that. Hawke really liked being around her kids. They were intelligent, funny and sweet little kids and Hawke was a grown man - he didn't need his partner's world to revolve around him. Valena putting her children first was appealing, even. So instead, he said, "I don't think she feels the same."

That actually seemed to give the dwarf pause, which was rare. Still, Varric recovered after only a moment and gave his best friend a shove. "Well, sitting around guessing at the answers was never your forte. Time to get off your ass, Champion of Kirkwall, and find out for yourself."

Varric had a point, Hawke had to concede. Still, he wasn't about to go confessing to her until he was more certain of his own feelings and until he was more certain of hers. "I think I will," Hawke replied.

Varric left Hawke alone not long after to go talk to Scout Harding. Hawke filed that info away in the back of his head to possibly tease his buddy over later. After all, turn about's fair play and all that. Still, though, the conversation with Varric had left Hawke a lot to think about as he turned back around to observe Valena and her children. The flower crown with the dark red flowers had been set aside and Miri was twisting little tiny white flowers into her mom's hair on one side and Balor had joined in, trying to do the same on the other side, though Hawke noticed that most of the flowers fluttered right back out of her deep red tresses. Valena's face glowed with happiness, tilting her head this way and that to give her children equal access to her hair.

Eventually, Balor got up and ran over to Iron Bull, wanting to ride on his shoulders and Valena must have decided there were enough of the little blossoms in her hair since she handed the flower crown that had been set to the side to Miri and pointed in Cassandra's general direction.

Miri grinned broadly and took off, little feet pounding against the ground and kicking up the hem of her dress as Valena slowly picked herself up off the ground, stretching languidly. Hawke backed away, pretending to examine the requisitions table so as not to be caught staring. He heard, rather than saw Valena approach, only looking up when she gently laid a hand on his forearm. He looked up, surprised, and his breath was taken away. With the little white buds twisted in her fiery red hair around her face and the flowers adorning her like an ethereal queen of the forest, she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen.

"You've been studying the requisitions hard," she noted lightly, a relaxed smile stretching her lips. "Have we collected anything worth being sent back yet?"

"Wha?" Hawke breathed, still dazed by her beauty for a second before he shook himself and exclaimed, "Oh." The mage hurriedly scanned the table, looking for answers. "Er, yes. We've collected a good amount of elfroot which is good for potions."

She didn't reply, her green eyes roving over him slowly. Hawke panicked, fearing she may have noticed that he'd been staring at her all this time, but then she just ran her fingers along his forearm in a soothing caress. "You've been going over this for a while now. Be sure to take a break. You wouldn't want to become overtired."

Before Hawke could do more than breathe a mental sigh of relief, a startled voice rang out, catching both mages attention. Cassandra had clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Oh, Miri!" she exclaimed in her heavy Nevarran accent. "I love it!" The woman gratefully accepted the flower crown and immediately placed it on her head. It looked a little odd on the normally austere, brass tacks woman, but it also accented the glow of her beaming face. Hawke had never seen the woman quite so happy as she scooped the little girl up for a hug. Miri giggled gaily where she was pressed against Cassandra's chest, wrapping her arms as far around the woman as her 5 year old arms could manage.

Hawke leaned in towards Valena, softly murmuring, "You've got a good kid."

"I do, don't I?"

Hawke jerked his head over at Balor, who was sitting on Bull's shoulders and gripping onto his horns as the Qunari bucked around, pretending he was trying to throw the little boy. "Two, even."

Her smile grew a touch sad. "Yeah," she breathed, "guess I do."

Hawke wanted to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for months now. It burned in his throat, begging to jump out and sate his curiosity. Why did Miri look like a blonde clone of her where Balor barely resembled her at all? Was it merely that Balor took after her late husband and that was why she sometimes grew a trifle sad when she looked at the little boy? Or was there another explanation? Another thing that nagged at him was Miri's lack of elven ears. He knew this wasn't the time, though. He threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick, one armed squeeze. It was only meant to be a comforting gesture on his part, but he couldn't help briefly burying his nose in her hair and breathing in. Her hair still carried a hint of the scented soap she had at the hold but the heady scent of the earth clung to her, too, with just a touch of sweat. His chest filled with warmth and he was sad when he had to let her go, wanting to linger there longer.

Valena smiled up at him gratefully before walking away to go pluck Balor off of the Bull's back and declare that it was time for supper. The two kids whined, disappointed that their fun had been interrupted, but scampered off towards where the soldier was making stew out of a ram they'd poached earlier, some found herbs - Valena was an absolute expert in discerning herbs and knew which ones went best with what dishes - and some vegetables they'd bought off some nearby farmers.

Gregory joined them but couldn't seem to help the way his eyes skittered towards the Inquisitor for the rest of the evening. In all the time he'd known her, he didn't think he'd ever seen her so carefree or happy. He also couldn't help the blush that crept up his neck when Varric caught him and threw him suggestive looks.

Damn that dwarf. This was going to go in one of his books one day, Hawke could feel it in his bones.

Hawke could only hope it would end up as an epic or a love story and not as a tragedy.

Sweat ran down Valena's neck as she fired spell after spell, feeling her energy draining an increment each time she did so. She was already bone tired and would have fallen to the floor if not for the mana potions she kept downing like they were the elixir of life. She was spattered with blood, but none of it was her's, thankfully. She'd blasted a group of hurlock at close range and the result had been a rain of ichor. It smelled foul, as one might expect, but she ignored it.

A few feet away from her, Varric was firing Bianca as fast as he could manage, springing away when one of the enemies got too close. Valena let a fire spell loose on the dwarf's attacker, burning the darkspawn alive. It gave a horrible, inhuman scream before it fell to the floor of the cave they were in, smoldering. Valena attempted a rejuvenation spell on Varric, who was beginning to look a little worse for wear himself, but felt her magic stutter and falter, her reserves being too low to finish the spell. Breathing heavily, she popped another blue flask from her belt and downed it, smashing it when she was through.

She noticed Bull fall a way off, his Reaver specialization a blessing and a curse, unfortunately. The liquid in the flask worked quickly, filling her with energy and she began to cast a revival on the large warrior, simultaneously sending out barriers to the rest of her companions. Healing and defensive magic had always been her specialties, after all.

The Inquisitor was relieved to see Bull picking himself up off the floor a moment later and even managing to catch sight of one of his larger wounds healing before her eyes, the power of her spell knitting the skin back together in a neat line. He resumed his place in the fray, beheading three genlock in a single sweep.

A quick glance over in Blackwall's direction said he was still doing alright. He'd sustained a cut on his cheek that was weeping dark blood, but seemed otherwise in good shape. Valena was looking for the former Champion when Gregory shouted, "Valena, to your left!"

Without thinking, the mage struck out blindly to the left with her staff and sent an electric bolt through it, seeking whatever Hawke was trying to warn her about. The darkspawn had been closer than she anticipated, she found, when her staff was unable to even finish its arc and the crystal at the top embedded in the putrid creatures throat, effectively shredding its neck and frying it on the inside as the bolt took its course, moving from the crystal into the creature's body. The smell of burnt, rotten meat filled the air and with a disgusted grimace, the mage managed to dislodge her staff from the dead creature. It fell to the ground, still sizzling and twitching but definitely dead.

The brush with mortality spurred her on. The darkspawn had been right up on her. If Hawke hadn't shouted that warning when he did, she surely would have died. Valena dropped her ichor coated staff for a moment and centered herself on the ground in a wide stance, gathering all of her energy. "Everybody MOVE!" she screamed as a pillar of flame shot up from the ground like a beacon.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, Boss!" Iron Bull exclaimed exuberantly, falling back as he did.

When both of the warriors were out of range, however, the darkspawn tried to follow. "Oh no you don't!" Valena snarled, whipping both hands outward and causing the pillar to spread with the gesture. It became more than just a wall of fire, spreading in every direction. Distorted screams rose from the blaze as darkspawn were burned alive. When the fire died, only a few darkspawn had managed to escape the inferno where they had been overrun before. The two warriors and Varric chased after what little remained to dispatch them quickly.

Valena sagged then, her knees giving out. It felt like all the breath had gone out of her lungs and all her muscles had atrophied with the great effort it had taken her to cast such an incredible fire spell. Hawke fell to his knees beside her, managing to grab her before she slumped all the way into the dirt and brought her down gently to lay her head in his lap. Her eyes drooped as she looked up at him, beyond exhausted. "Heeeey, Hawke," she greeted, her voice coming out light and airy and she didn't seem fully present. "Awesome fire spell, huh?"

Gregory smiled down at the Inquisitor, brushing her sweaty and blood soaked hair away from her face. "Would have been better if it didn't render you useless afterward," he teased.

Valena whined, attempting to smack at his hand, but unable to with the paralyzing effect of depleting all of her mana. "I'd like to see you do better," she challenged, though it lacked any real vigor, adjusting her head in his lap. Her green eyes, already hooded from exhaustion, drooped further until they were almost closed. "Grey," she said, sleep heavy in her voice, "can you be in charge while I take a..." she paused and yawned, "... nap?"

A little thrill went through him at the use of his nickname but he squashed it, taking care of her being of far more importance. He slowly pulled two little flasks from his belt. "Yeah, I can do that.. after you take a little sip of both of these." He used his teeth to remove the corks and spat them out off to the side.

Valena groaned, obviously already on her way to a comatose state, but complied. Gregory supported her head, tipping first the mana potion to her lips followed by the healing. He didn't make her drink the entirety of either potion, knowing that if she took too much of the mana potion, she might not be able to sleep and she really didn't need the healing potion except for to reverse some of the fatigue depleting that much of her mana would cause. He finished off both of the flasks himself. She was out before the bottles hit the cave floor.

Hawke was adjusting the elvhen woman in his arms to carry her back to camp when the two warriors returned, Varric a few paces behind. Iron Bull spoke first, holding out his burly arms, "I can carry her back."

The male mage tightened his grip around Valena unconsciously, bringing her a fraction closer to his chest. "No," Hawke replied, trying his best to seem nonchalant. "I got her."

Gregory didn't even have to look at Varric to know that the dwarf would be all kinds of smug and cocky over this development. Bull just raised an eyebrow but shrugged and let it go. Blackwall looked confused but didn't press on the matter. Hawke chanced a glance at Varric and found his friend silently snickering at him, his shoulders shaking and hiding his mouth with a hand clapped over it. Hawke narrowed his eyes at the dwarf and promised himself that he'd punch Varric later.

They exited the cave they'd been eliminating darkspawn in. They'd accomplished their mission and would be returning to the hold, shortly. Valena would be relieved to be reunited with her littles once more, Hawke thought.

The walk back to camp was a long one and by the time they caught sight of the tents, Gregory's arms ached with the effort of carrying the Inquisitor. Still, he couldn't bring himself to let Blackwall or Bull carry her back the rest of the way. He liked how her head rested against his chest and the tiny little snores that escaped her every now and then. Gregory could admit to himself that he was completely smitten with Valena - he just couldn't admit it to anyone else yet.

Gregory almost dropped her when he stooped to enter her tent to deposit her inside. The jostling roused her and she blinked sleepily at him, seeming to be only half awake. "Grey?" she asked, grogginess and confusion clear in her voice. "What're ya doing in my tent?"

"I- er, well," he stuttered, feeling a little guilty even though he hadn't done anything wrong, "I carried you back to camp and was just putting you down."

Another slow, lethargic blink followed his statement. "Ah, I see," she replied understandingly, nodding to herself. After a long moment, her eyes began to droop again. Grey thought she was falling back asleep so he slowly started backing out of the tent, but she murmured something that stopped him in his tracks; "You know, sometimes... you look like... my... husband."

Gregory froze. "What?" he breathed, incredulous.

Valena shifted on her mat so that she was laying on her side, bunching up her pillow as much as she could. "He had lighter hair, but your eyes... remind me of... his."

Gregory's eyes could have popped out of his skull at this revelation. Valena had never really spoken about her husband before, only mentioning that he'd passed on before she'd turned up at the conclave with the crazy green magic anchor in her hand. Still, he wanted to use this opportunity to find out a little more about her past. "What was your husband's name?"

A small, sad smile crossed her face. "Aurelis. Aurelis Cathrie."

Hawke took a deep breath to steady himself. "What happened to Aurelis, Valena?"

The young woman did not reply and her silence made Gregory worry that his question had upset her. When he looked at her face, ready to blurt out every apology he could think of, though, he found her face smooth and impassive as she'd crossed into unconsciousness once more. Hawke sighed and slowly exited the tent. It was going to be a long night for the mage.