#this is worse than me not being able to spell hawk correctly anymore

[big-ass-magnet]

WOW I sure did read “Korean DMZ” as “Krogan DMZ”

it didn’t even register at first. I got two more words into the sentence before I had to go back.

It wasn’t even that I misread it? My eyes saw “Korean”! And I understood it as “Korean”! But my Internal Reading Voice very definitely said Krogan.

that is....... a level

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

12 Days of Christmas (1/12)

Here we are! The beginning of the 12 Days of Christmas. This fic is for my perfect sunflower @lechatrouge673. Thank you for being a constant source of support, in writing and in life. You are amazing and I am so glad we are friends! You wanted  Mercedes and Anders walking in the snow. Ask and you shall receive, love.

***

Cold Outside - Mercedes Hawke x Anders - Holiday Prompt - Dragon Age Canon Verse - All the pining - 1628 words

***

The Hanged Man during Santinalia was boisterous, exciting, distracting. Mercedes still wasn’t used to being out in the open among people and on purpose. After a lifetime of hiding from strangers and Templars, being an openly apostate mage in the middle of Kirkwall could only be described as idiotic. If only her father could see her now.

In attempts to save up money for the deep roads, she has done odd jobs all over the city. She made quite a bit of coin finding and fetching things, serving as an inconspicuous bodyguard-nobody ever suspected the slight, female mage.

Even more recently, she’d volunteered time in the clinic with Anders. Helping people unable to help themselves earned her favor with the undesirables of the city. She knew they would never turn her in, but she still worried. It was hard to break habits instilled in her from such a young age. To trust nobody, stay out of sight, fight only when necessary, don’t advertise magic.

Sitting with her friends, taking in the decor for the holiday, listening to the off key singing she tried to relax. She was glad that for once Carver had some of his old spark back. He was too young to be dealing with the mess they were in. He should be working in the Lothering guard, and trying to woo farmer’s daughters or tavern maids during his off time.

She wanted to have fun, let loose, instead she checked corners, suspicious shadows, noticed and observed people she felt were paying too close attention to her group, she anticipated trouble. Mercedes knew she was a buzz kill, hated that her friends spent more time trying to include her in the merriment than have a good time themselves.

Maybe she wouldn’t mind so much if it was Anders attempting to engage her in conversation, in anything really. An entire evening of pretending not to watch each other, quick glances, shy blushes, and endless distance between them. He was kind, supportive, but so certain he could never be good enough for her. He might be right, but damn if she wasn’t ready to throw caution to the wind and give them a chance.

She caught him looking again, piercing eyes making her warm from the inside. Hawke considered taking matters into her own hands and speaking to him when a patron, a woman she recognized from the clinic, approached. She recalled the lady’s soft, dark hair, soft voice and sweet smile. She would be grateful, uncomplicated, perfect for Anders. He gave himself too much credit for the collapse of any hypothetical coupling. She had just as much baggage as he did, and less experience creating meaningful relationships. It was probably a good thing he was so weary about the formation of even a tentative friendship, too much tension, instant sparks, and apparently not the kind he was willing to deal with.

Maker, she felt foolish. The spirit of the season must have scrambled her normally sensible thought process. She excused herself from the table, collecting her belongings, and pausing to let Carver know she was heading home. Fenris politely offered to see her home, but Hawke declined reassuring him even Kirkwall’s thugs took a day off for Santinalia. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her body and pulling her hood up, she stepped out into the night.

***

He noticed the moment she left. Felt the void her presence left behind in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. He seemed to always know where she was when they were in the same room, and the shock of her missing always struck him to the core. Mercedes Hawke didn’t know him, but offered aide without question in what could have been a much worse situation when he finally tracked down Karl. She was loyal and fierce when she needed to be, kind and gentle when she helped in his clinic, and stunning. Maker was she breathtaking. And he was a fool.

He politely removed himself from the conversation from the Lowtown woman offering more than thanks for his healing ministrations and hurried to catch up with Hawke. He knew a general direction, he’d never actually been to Gamlen’s home. He knew she hated when anyone referred to the house as hers. He often wondered if it was because she was embarrassed of it, or if she really just hated her Uncle that much, maybe someday they would be close enough he could ask.

Kirkwall almost looked clean, white snow covered the streets in a heavy blanket. Humble homes lit with cheer for the holiday made the night glow a soft gold. Anders had been on the run most of his life, except for the time in Amaranthine with Amell and the friends he made in the Wardens, he hadn’t spent much time noticing Santinalia. He never had the time to worry about celebrating when he was trying to survive away from the Circle. Nothing had changed, not really, but he found himself beginning to hope for something new.

Hawke’s form was ahead of him, hood pulled up over her long, dark hair, but he knew it was her. Head high, light tread, she swayed-not exaggerated like Bela-her movements were fluid and captivating.

“Mercedes,” he called out before he could stop himself, “wait!”

She paused and he was able to see the profile of her face. Her warm breath frosting in the night air blending with the light, casting a hazy fog. She looked ethereal in the festive light surrounding her, a clear sign he was a sap falling in love. “I do believe that is the first time I’ve ever heard you use my given name.” Her face flushed prettily, but it might just be the cold. “A true Santinalia miracle, one of my friends knows my name.”

He fell into step with her, delicate flakes of glittering snow glinting in the light landing on her deep crimson robes. “Of course I know it,” he scoffed.  “I just figured it would be safer to use in this moment. Two mages walking the dark streets alone, not the best time to bring attention to the city’s most prominent apostate.”

She grinned, elbowing him in the side in mock offense, “Don’t worry. I’m more than capable of keeping you safe.” She allowed a small tendril of lightning chase a streak of fire around her forearm dangerous gleam in her eyes. “We would make a pretty good team in a pinch.”

He followed the display of nature magic wind up her arm marveling at her abilities. “You said it yourself, ‘a team.’ Even you need someone to watch your back, keep you alive.”

“Volunteering to watch my back?” She chuckled, giving him a sideways glance, “You’d better be careful, I might take you up on that offer. It’s been a little too long in that department.”

“I can’t even imagine how,” he muttered looking down at his boots scuffing in the snow.

“What can I say,” she shrugged, “being a small, angry apostate doesn’t lend itself well to companionship.” The comment cut, he knew it was directed at him for the many times he refused her attentions. She paused at the base of the steps leading to Gamlen’s home, piercing him with a hard stare from her chocolate colored eyes, shifting slightly as if trying to make a decision. She began in a low-smoky voice, “I have something for you, but I’m not sure about it anymore.” Now almost a whisper she continued, “It might be presuming too much.”

Anders was stunned. She had a gift for him. Something that made her nervous from the looks of it. He felt hyper aware of everything going on around him, the numbing cold, light snow swirling around her, warm glow on her cheeks, eyes cast down in a sweet, shy way he’d never seen from her. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had someone to get me gifts, much less for Santinalia.”

“We can’t have that,” she smiled warmly, decision made, “come on inside. Pretty sure Uncle Gamlen is gone so you won’t have to deal with that mess.”

“And your mother?”

“Why, serrah, are you worried to be alone with little ol’ me?”

“Maybe I’m worried for your reputation. I’m a dashing mage, and if I’ve read Varric’s novels correctly, you are supposed to swoon and fawn over me under a mistletoe you’ve strategically hidden.”

“Maker,” she gasped, “I knew I forgot something! I guess you can’t have your present. I am unprepared.”

“Quiet you. Let’s go inside before I freeze. It’s cold out here and I’m not as good maintaining fire spells as you. I will catch my death since your healing spells leave a lot to be desired.”

“Making it personal are we?” she arched her brow. “It’s a long walk to Darktown, sir healer. I would hate to see you tossed out and miserable in the cold.”

“I think we both know you wouldn’t do that,” he replied softly, searching her face for some sign that he was being too familiar. For her to be reasonable since he could not.

“No,” her face serious, “I wouldn’t.”

“You’re too nice.”

She laughed, “Not nice enough. You better believe I’m going to tell Varric you read his books.”

“I take it back, you’re the worst.”

“I know,” she smirked. “Come inside before I change my mind. No mistletoe traps, I promise.” she motioned her head in the direction of the door.

He debated continuing the banter, letting her know that a Santinalia kiss wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen, but that might be pushing his luck. He followed her into the house, thankful that she was allowing him to be with her when she could be with literally anyone else.